“We know very little about them, Sibeal,” Johnny said. “It seems Knut was happy to offer his services as an oarsman, and took no interest in who owned the ship or why certain folk were traveling on her. He can’t even give me a name in Ulfricsfjord so I know where to send my message. My inclination would be to dispatch him and his wife, along with this fellow, over to the mainland before our visitors arrive. My people in the settlement there could arrange passage home for them. But even if this man survives, Muirrin tells me he won’t be fit to travel for a long while. And Svala clearly can’t go anywhere. We’ll have to keep them for some time.”

“I don’t imagine any one of them is a spy,” I said, wondering if that was what he meant, “or they would have arrived by less dramatic means.”

“No, I imagine not. But while they’re here, we’ll have to keep an eye on them. And with this man needing so much care, our healers are going to be very busy. When we’re conducting training, there are always injuries.”

“I’ll help, of course,” I said.

“Good,” Johnny said. “Sibeal, I sense you didn’t give much credence to what I said before. You shouldn’t let what happened at the burial weigh on your mind. I never lie to my men about their performance in the field, and I wouldn’t lie to you. When I tell you that you completed your task well, you should believe me.”

“Thank you, Johnny.” His men reported to him as commander, and it was up to him to determine whether they had done well or not. In the absence of Ciarán, only the gods could determine my success or failure. I could not help feeling they would be watching me with some disappointment.

“You’re very hard on yourself,” Johnny said.

“The path is one of constant learning. Constant striving for improvement.”

“Don’t forget that your family is here. You may be a druid, but you should lean on us if you have need. Now I must go. Good night, Sibeal. Good night, Gull.”

“Good night.”