I turned away again and walked back toward the men. Oh, Ciarán, I thought, I need your wisdom now. But I am glad you are not here to see me come to this. And it seemed to me his voice murmured in my ear, wise and calm as always: In all experience, there is something to be learned. In deepest sorrow, wisdom is found. In the well of despair, hope rises.

Men slept, rolled in anything they could find that was tolerably dry. The rock shelf made a hard bed, but these warriors were used to taking their rest where and when it was offered, and they were bone weary. Those who were to form the rescue party were ordered to rest first, Cathal and me included. He lay down and closed his eyes, his dark cloak spread over him. Perhaps sleeping; more likely not. I knew I would not sleep.

Four men stood guard around us, three of them facing the bay with spears in hand. Gareth paced. I found I could not look at him. I saw the logic in what Cathal had told me, but I could not accept it. This was Gareth, Johnny’s beloved, a man who always put others’ needs before his own. A joker; an arbiter; a peacemaker. The captain who had ordered his crew not to save a comrade’s life was worlds away from the man I knew. A familiar friend had, in an instant, become a stranger.

“Sibeal,” Gareth said now, speaking in an undertone so as not to disturb the sleepers, “if you’re going with Cathal, you must lie down and rest.”

I ignored him, moving to sit a short distance away from the others. Further down on the rocks, Svala still crouched. She was humming a mournful little tune, over and over. I settled cross-legged, my hands palm upwards on my knees. I closed my eyes. Gareth said nothing more.

I needed all my strength to achieve a meditative trance. My body was tight with grief; sorrow was in every part of me. It beat in my heart and ran in my veins. In my mind, over and over, Felix dived off the boat, graceful as a swallow, and vanished under the water. I called upon my training. I called upon the discipline that had been so hard-won. I breathed. I banished my tears. I thought of Ciarán’s wise eyes, his measured voice, his reassuring presence. And of Finbar, long gone but still present in spirit, a power for good. After a long time, when at last I was ready, I prayed. Help me be strong enough. Help me survive this. And then the hard part. Lead them kindly on their journey, guardian of the great gateway. They were fine men, the two of them. Gull, warrior and healer, beloved of his family, a friend of utmost loyalty, a lamp of goodness to all who knew him. And Felix . . . Breathe, breathe . . . And Felix, so strong in heart, so gentle yet so brave . . . Morrigan, I pass him over to you. But oh, if his hand were still in mine I would fight to keep him, I would fight like a she-wolf to win him another chance. Manannán, you took him too soon. Surely it was not his time. Despite my best efforts, a tear spilled.