Yes, it was an enormous risk. But Hæra was being handed another opportunity, as precious to her as gold was to humans. If she appeared to the man alone, his fellows would never believe him, and she could show him that she wasn’t Asgall. That she meant no harm. That it would be perfectly safe for Sister Madeleine to come back, since she was clearly alive and talking.

Hæra’s marine tail pushed her forward. Compared to the sea, the world had so little land, but the tiny stretch of rocky shore suddenly seemed as formidable as the greatest underwater crevasses.

She approached, splitting her tail when she was close enough to emerge on four legs. Gleaming strands of kelp hung handsomely from her mane. She’d polished the shells on her front hooves by rubbing them against some rocks. Altogether, it was an elegant effect. Hæra had come in her best to meet Sister Madeleine.

This sea louse of a human probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but what could you do?

He was looking the wrong way. If Hæra were here to eat him, he’d be done for already. She stamped and snorted in contempt.

The man whirled on his feet, stumbled, and promptly fell on his behind. Then he sat on the ground, staring at Hæra with his mouth open. This close, she could see his grizzled beard in patches of brown and white. His face was weather-worn. His clothes were too baggy to show his shape, but he seemed neither malnourished nor covered with a large layer of insulating fat. More than that she couldn’t tell.

A wet patch was also rapidly spreading over the cloth between his legs as he stared at her. He’d urinated on himself. Pathetic.

“You’re different,” he choked.

An understatement. Hæra and Asgall looked nothing alike, thank the Great Mare. She considered what he’d said before—what he’d called Sister Madeleine—and voiced the first question that came to her mind, although it sounded a little muddled with the coin under her tongue.

“What is a nun?” she asked, staying several lengths from him.

The human stared at her some more before gasping, “You’re not him. Oh fuck. There are more of you?”

So Asgall hadn’t betrayed the existence of the herd. “‘Him,’” Hæra said. “I assume you mean my brother. Asgall is his name.”

“God. Right enough. Asgall is his name.” The man seemed as shocked as if he’d just swum through an entire sea full of electric eels. “Your brother. He’s got a sister. Christ.”

“My name is not Christ. I’m Hæra. What are you called?”

“Jonathan,” the man whispered. “Jonathan Rendall.”

“Well met, Jonathan Rendall.”

“Erm…just Jonathan, I…” Jonathan suddenly appeared to realize he was still sitting down. He looked between his legs at the wet patch and groaned, “You knob.”