The sea beast’s neck was broad enough to walk on, though doing so would require a degree of confidence—his scaly skin was wet and slippery. I judged the length to be about eight strides. The hardest part would be walking on his head; to reach the rocks we must pass between his great eyes and within easy snapping range of his formidable jaws. Cathal took charge.

“Sigurd, you’re first. When you get to the brow, you’ll wait and help the others over the last part. Gull, you’re next—go right over, stand on the rocks and make sure everyone moves up and out of the way quickly. Oschu, you’ll take Thorgrim on your back. Berchan and Felix, you’re with Colm. Donn, you all right to go with the warriors?” Donn gave a stiff nod. I saw how much this would help him. Cathal had just recognized him publicly as fit, capable, ready to move on. “Sibeal,” Cathal said, “you and I will carry the skin over. We’re going last. All right?”

“All right,” I said. Oh, he was wise. The precious skin had won us safe passage from underground. The creature might be well disposed toward us at present because we had retrieved it. All the same, the sea beast was a wild thing, and the workings of its mind were largely beyond our understanding. Cathal knew, as I did, that while we carried Svala’s salvation her beloved would not harm us.

Johnny would have been proud of this team. We crossed to safe ground in orderly procession. Even sturdy Oschu, with the sick man balanced across his shoulders, was as steady as if walking on an ordinary bridge of wood or stone. When everyone else was over, Cathal and I picked up the skin. He made me go first this time. I had thought I might cross as easily as the warriors had, but balancing was hard while carrying the heavy bundle. At one point I slipped, and in regaining my footing I made the mistake of glancing down. A rushing tide under moonlight is a stunning sight: natural magic at its most powerful. I thought I would be quite content if I never saw one again.

“Three more steps, Sibeal,” said Felix, and I looked up. He was waiting right by the creature’s mouth, holding out a hand. I walked on, and Cathal came after me, and as I stepped onto solid rock, Felix took my end of the skin so I could clamber up higher, to a flat area where the others were standing in a silent group. Cathal was on the sea beast’s muzzle; he was stepping over its mouth; he was on dry land. He gave his end of the skin to Berchan, who stood ready, and turned to face the creature. “We thank you,” he said gravely. “We honor you. We go now to take this to her, and to make good the injustice that was done.” And perhaps, after he had spoken the words in Irish, words the sea beast surely could not understand, he also sent the creature another kind of message. For Cathal’s ancestry was, in part, that of the Sea People, folk not unlike Svala in their power and their wildness. In the moment when he stood facing the creature, still and silent, perhaps like spoke to like. Then Cathal turned to us. “Let’s get these fellows to shelter,” he said. “Everyone all right to walk?”