“Don’t say that.” Oh, this felt good. Here on the deck, with Liadan plowing ahead through heaving seas and the air full of salt spray, with the unforgiving rocks of the serpent isle drawing closer and closer, for a moment or two I felt as safe as I had ever felt in my life. “Your courage made this possible. Your hope kept the mission alive. Without you, nobody would have come to the rescue.”

“My courage is your courage, Sibeal. My hope is your hope. You led me out of my own Yeun Ellez, the place of mist and shadow.”

I closed my eyes, holding on, wishing the moment would last forever. Fix this in your memory, Sibeal. Lock it up well, for it is rare beyond price.

As we approached the island, both Gareth and Cathal came up to stand on the foredeck beside us.

“Ask Svala where the entry is, Sibeal,” Gareth said. “I’d hoped Knut would be able to show us, but he’s not making any sense.”

There was no need to ask. As the sail came down and Liadan advanced cautiously under oars, Svala pointed with complete confidence to what appeared to me a sheer, unbroken wall of stone. That way.

“Manannán have mercy,” Cathal said. “Can you see anything?”

“Not a break anywhere. Sibeal, can you—”

Gareth broke off. Svala had turned. Her lovely eyes widened as she looked past us, along the boat. She hissed, a sound of outrage. I followed her gaze to see crewmen passing up spears, bows and throwing knives from the hold.

The hiss became a flood of sounds, not the warbling songlike speech of better times, but a furious, shrieking challenge. Her anger filled me; I staggered with the force of it, and Felix had to grab my arm to stop me from falling.

“No weapons,” I gasped. “Tell the men to put them back. If you want her to show you the way in, do as I say.”

“Dagda’s britches, Sibeal,” protested Gareth, “there’s a man-eating monster through there!”

Everything began to turn around me; my vision filled with spots. “No weapons,” I murmured, swaying. I clutched onto Felix, willing myself not to faint.

“Put the weapons away!” Gareth shouted. “Gods help us, you’d better be right about this. Any sign of an opening yet?”

Surely we were too close to land. I could see shawls of weed on the rocks, and ledges higher up where gannets might nest. Gull was shouting commands to the oarsmen. Their faces were red with effort, their bodies straining hard. We will not founder, I said to myself, as if repeating the words might make them true. We will not be wrecked. We will find the way.

“There!” Felix was pointing ahead. And there it was: a narrow opening, visible only as a subtle variation in the gray of the rocks.

“Pull!” yelled Gull, moving to a position beside Sigurd and his helper. “Pull!”