Knut was sitting on the beach, a short distance away. He had a rope around one ankle, tethering him to a slab of rock. He was hunched over, a picture of misery, his arms around his knees, someone’s cloak draped over his bent back. Two men stood at a little distance. One leaned casually on a spear; the other had knives at his belt.

“I’m not staying here,” I said, trying to dry my eyes on my wet sleeve. “I’m coming with you to find those men. Since Felix can’t do it, I must take his place.” I recalled those first divinations, cast after the waves brought Felix to my doorstep. Had I put too much trust in Nyd—fortitude beyond endurance? Had I placed undue emphasis on the beneficent power of Os? In Felix’s own choice of runes, he had included Is. In tying that to his loss of memory, had I failed to consider that Is could also signify a disaster that came from nowhere? And if I had seen it coming, could I have changed the pattern of this? Could I have saved him?

“Sibeal,” said Cathal.

I started, blinking. He’d been saying something and I had missed it completely. “What?”

“This could be difficult. Even Felix didn’t know where those men were. Nor did Knut. All we have to go on is my vision, and the only thing that showed was a cave. It may be a lengthy search.” He did not mention the monster, which, according to Felix’s account, could go on both land and water.

“I’m coming with you.”

Perhaps it was something in my stance, or in my eyes. Perhaps my brother-in-law thought anything was better than the whimpering wretch I had been not so long ago. I could not be that woman, not now. There was work to be done.

“So be it, then,” Cathal said. “See if you can find yourself some dry clothing—Garbh and Rian are sorting out the things from the hold, over there on the rocks.” He hesitated. “I think Svala wants to tell you something. Maybe she can help us. If she really does belong in this place, she should know the likeliest spot for folk to shelter in.”

Rian and Garbh found me a shirt and a tunic that had missed the worst of the water, and I went behind a protrusion in the rocks to change. No spare skirt. I took mine off, wrung it out and put it back on again, shivering. When night came it would bring a cold to freeze the marrow. My stockings were soaking and filthy. I thrust my bare feet into my shoes. I rolled my wet things up. Coming back out, I almost crashed into Svala, who was standing with legs apart and arms folded, waiting for me. The stance was not encouraging, and nor was the tight set of her mouth. I put down the bundle and reached to take her hands, and I felt a trembling running through her. I closed my eyes, hoping that here, with open space around us, her thoughts might come to me more clearly than on the boat. Was she scared? Angry? Cold? How could such wild elation be gone so quickly?