"Mm?"

"Can you make a light? My craft is useless here; I cannot conjure so much as a candle flame to show us the way. So much for my decision to leave Clodagh and join the rescue mission. It seems anyone could have taken my place."

"I don't believe that, Cathal. Time will show why your magic is blocked here. There will be some wisdom in it, I'm sure."

"Not if my father is responsible. Can you do it, Sibeal?"

Elemental magic. I knew the rudiments. I had made the fire flare up on the night Knut attacked Felix. At this moment, I was so weary that only the compulsion of the task was keeping me going.

"I'll try. Can we put this down for a bit?"

We had not yet reached the water: water that would be deeper now, perhaps much deeper. What would happen when the creature moved? I would not think of that. I would summon my deepest reserves of strength. I would make myself calm and open. I would use what I already had-the last dim trace of day, the little creatures that slithered and scuttered on the tunnel walls, the creepers and crawlers that hid in nooks and crannies. I would use the memory of the men who had perished in that cave and in the ravine, men who had held on as long as they could. I would use the moment when Felix had dived in after Gull, like a flame of pure courage made flesh. I would make light.

I closed my eyes and spoke the words of an ancient charm. I breathed. I sent the warmth of my breath out through the darkness, touching each small penumbral life. Help us. Help us bring her back.

I heard Cathal's indrawn breath before I opened my eyes to look. The tunnel was transformed. Myriad points of brightness pierced the gloom. It was as if the stars themselves had come down to guide us on our way. Each was tiny; each was a glow as small as the heartbeat of a fly. Together they revealed the stone floor, the ledge, the high walls and vaulted roof of the pa.s.sage. Together they illuminated the way forward.

Wordless, we moved on, bearing the great skin carefully between us. Cathal, I thought, you will have an amazing tale to tell your baby son or daughter one day. Unbidden, a vision came to me. It was the same little house I had seen once before, the same window opening onto trees, the same mellow lamplight over the peaceful interior. I was there, before the hearth. Felix was seated opposite me, restored to perfect health, his color high, his glossy hair tamed by a ribbon at the nape. The child on his knee was older than she had been last time; instead of an infant's smock she wore a little gown embroidered with owls. Her big eyes were fixed on her father in fascination as he told her a story. And then your mother walked up to the serpent, right up to it, and it lifted her in its hand. Our daughter protested, But Papa, serpents don't have hands. They are the same as snakes only bigger. Aren't they? He smiled. This one had hands. Hands with long sharp claws. Perhaps it was not so much a serpent as a sea dragon. Your mama is the bravest woman in all Erin. Our daughter turned her beautiful eyes on me for a moment and said, I know that, Papa. Tell me what happened next.

The vision began to fade. I stumbled, desperate to keep it, desperate to say, I love you, I wish with all my heart that you were real, don't go! Foolish Sibeal.

"Wait." Cathal stopped to adjust his grip. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," I said grimly. "Prey to unhelpful thoughts, that's all."

"I know how that feels."

We reached the water sooner than I expected. Or maybe the water came higher up the tunnel now. We splashed in, our awkward bundle between us. Here, there were fewer of the little lights. My facility for natural magic was limited; beside Ciaran's it was nothing.

"I told myself I wouldn't think about Clodagh." My companion's voice came to me softly through the half-dark. "But I've thought of nothing else, all the way."

"Hope," I said. "Leading you forward. The knowledge that home is waiting for you when the mission is over." Even as I spoke, it came to me that my idea of what home meant had changed entirely over this summer. What was waiting for me?

Silence for a while, as we moved on through the water. Now it was almost up to my knees. "I don't suppose it matters," I said, "if we get the skin wet." I imagined the sea creature leaping and diving in the bay, at one with the waves.

"I suppose not."

The remaining lights were winking out one by one. I will not be afraid, I told myself. It's much worse for the men waiting than it is for us. All we need do is walk straight ahead and we'll get there. Even if it's dark. Even if it's late. Even if . . .

"Sibeal," said Cathal.

"Mm?"

"Do you know that song about the lady and the toad?"

"Mm-hm."

"What, even the rude parts? I'm shocked."

I smiled, though he could not see it in the darkness. "You'd be surprised what we pick up in the nemetons, Cathal. How shall we do it, one verse each and the chorus together?"

"Sounds fair to me. You start."

Step by step. Line by line. Verse by increasingly scurrilous verse. When we got to the end of that song we sang another, about the love of a hapless clurichaun for a young lady ten times his size. I'd had no idea Cathal was a singer, or that he possessed sufficient humor to enjoy tunes of this kind, the sort the rowdier inhabitants of Inis Eala liked to sing after a good supper and a few jugs of ale. Gull, now, or Snake, I could imagine partic.i.p.ating with some enthusiasm. When the clurichaun had been sent, sobbing his woe, back to his ancestral hill, we started a ballad about a faithless lover. After two verses Cathal stopped singing, leaving me all on my own with the chorus. My voice faltered.

"We're almost there," he said. "See, it's lighter up ahead, where the roof opens to the sky."

It was barely lighter. There would be a full moon tonight, but it was not yet late enough, surely, for it to be high in the sky and casting its beams down into this hidden s.p.a.ce. But I could see a little more. The water was up to my thighs. I would not think of the current that had borne Gull and Felix into the tunnel, the current Gull had said even the strongest swimmer could not combat.

"Good," I squeaked.

We rounded a corner and there they were. All were up on the ledge, high above the water level. Thorgrim lay with his head in Gull's lap. Felix had his arm around Colm; his smile of welcome lightened my heart. The others sat stoically waiting. And there was the creature, his eyes suddenly wide-open as we approached.

"Show him, Cathal," I said. "Hold it up and spread it out."

Sigurd and Oschu came down to help us. The four of us unfurled the skin, holding a corner each. The width of the tunnel was not sufficient to accommodate it held flat. I met the serpent's eye. This is what you need. See, we have brought it. Now I ask you to help us take it safely to her. I showed him all of us wading out of the tunnel, stepping up onto the rocks, forming a procession along the sh.o.r.e to the place where Liadan was moored. I showed Svala waiting for us, smiling. I prayed that the creature would not seize the skin in his jaws and back out of the pa.s.sage, letting the tide enter in his place. I closed my eyes.

A feeling like a great warm smile spread through me. Good. Friend.

The men were getting up, standing along the ledge. Two had spears in their hands; others had drawn their knives.

"Wait," Cathal said quietly. "Trust Sibeal-she knows what she's doing."

The creature moved, rising to its clawed feet. A rush of water came around it, catching me at waist level. I staggered before its force. Sigurd grabbed me and held me safe against the current, and the water subsided. Still I held my corner of the skin, and Cathal and Oschu did likewise. "Roll it up," I gasped. "We must move on." Let us move on. Let us take it to her now.

"Move on?" echoed Gull from the ledge. "It may not be far from here, but-"

The creature had half turned, maneuvering his long tail with some difficulty in the confined s.p.a.ce. He edged toward the side of the tunnel until a long-legged man could have stepped across with ease from the ledge onto his broad, scaly back. He became still. He seemed to be waiting.

Up on the ledge n.o.body was saying a word, though I could hear Colm weeping. Down in the water Sigurd, Oschu and Cathal rolled up the skin. I regarded the creature. His head was turned back toward me; his fey eyes looked into mine. What I sensed in his mind was, Come. Come then. Make haste. But he did not move forward. n.o.body could pa.s.s his bulk.

"Sibeal." The soft voice was that of Felix. "Could the creature be offering to bear us on its back?"

"Dagda's b.o.l.l.o.c.ks," commented someone.

Come now. Make haste. The water rises.

It would be possible even for me to step over from the ledge to the serpent's back, given a helping hand. That back was broad enough to accommodate all of us if we sat close together. Perhaps it was high enough to keep us safe even at peak tide. A creature that could leap right over an oceangoing boat might well be strong enough to withstand the current Gull had described.

"That's what we must do," I said. "Sigurd, will you lift me up to the ledge, please?"

He obliged, hoisting me as if I weighed no more than a child. They pa.s.sed up the skin; then Cathal, Sigurd and Oschu hauled themselves up beside the rest of us.

"Are you sure?" Cathal asked me, though I saw that he knew this was our best chance. He was asking for the men's sake. Liadan 's crew would face even this nightmare test with professionalism. If they were afraid, they hid it expertly. Felix and I were drawn by the mission; our convictions were stronger than our fear. But for Thorgrim, Donn and Colm, to be so close to the monster that had devoured their companions would be a test almost beyond endurance.

"I'm sure," I said.

Oschu stepped over first, then gave me his hand for support as I half stepped, half jumped across. I settled myself close to what might be considered the nape of the creature's neck. The others followed. Sigurd carried Thorgrim in his arms. Donn's face was ghastly white in the semidark, but he stepped over with Berchan by his side, and the two sat down without a word.

Colm screamed, fighting those who sought to aid him, and Gull and Felix, one on either side, manhandled him across to the serpent's back. The creature was perfectly still. He did not twitch so much as the tip of his tail; he did not utter so much as a sigh of exasperation at how slow we were. I tried not to remember that he had pierced a man's chest with his claw, or that he had almost sunk Liadan through sheer exuberance. When the last man-Cathal-had moved over from the ledge, I lay facedown against the creature's skin and made again an image of all of us emerging safe and sound onto flat rocks at the bay's edge. We trust you. We honor you, and we honor her. This is your place. When we have done what must be done, we will sail away from this isle. You will be at peace again. All will be to rights.

No answering thoughts now, but the sea beast moved, completing his turn and lurching forward so suddenly he came close to dislodging us. Colm opened his mouth to cry out again, and Gull gave him a flat-handed smack on the cheek. "It's time to be a man, lad," he said.

The creature waded forward into the dark. Now there was not a song left in me to keep away the shadows. I could not hold Felix's hand. It was taking the combined efforts of him and Gull to keep Colm from leaping off the serpent's back to be smashed on the rocks or stamped to death. Or drowned. Water gurgled and gushed around the creature's legs, a rising surge.

"The hand of Danu lie over us," I prayed. "The courage of the ancients fill our veins. The wonder of wild things be not terror to us, but inspiration. The memory of good companions, of hearth fires shared, of brave deeds achieved, beat in our hearts and give us strength."

There was quiet for a while, and then a voice rose in song. Not my voice or Cathal's, but that of Felix, singing in Irish.

Farewell, my mother and my home

Farewell my sisters three

For I am bound for oceans far

And isles of mystery.

A talking bird I'll bring for you

Gold brooches and fine rings

A chain of pearls, a silver clasp

And other costly things.

A refrain came next, full of oh-ree-ohs and somewhat melancholy in its style. Felix's voice was as strong and sweet as fine mead, and commendably steady. If his chest was still tight, there was no trace of that in the lovely flow of the ballad. Gull was quick to join in the refrain, followed by Sigurd and, after a moment, several others. The sea beast moved steadily forward in the darkness.

The brave young sailor crossed the sea

To places near and far

Until he found a treasure rare

As bright as any star.

She sat upon a rocky sh.o.r.e

Combing her golden hair

A princess from an ancient tale