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journey, tell him to make haste . Ysandre de la Courcel’s words had been in jest-it was in spring that Drustan mab Necthana came to stay with her, and there was ever a prize granted to the first person who spotted his sails-but there could be no doubt of it. The lead ship bore a great scarlet square of a mainsail displaying the Black Boar of Alba.
    “Drustan!” I breathed, and ran to tell Evrilac Duré, abandoning my vigil in the prow. He stared at me in disbelief, then looked and saw the proof of his own eyes and gave orders to his helmsman to change our course, making to intercept the flagship of the Cruarch of Alba. We had to go to oars, beating across the choppy waters.
    They saw us coming and halted, lowering sails to idle at sea as Duré’s oarsmen heaved and groaned, the other six ships dropping anchor behind the Cruarch’s. I saw him at a distance, a small figure across the waters, recognizable by his crimson cloak of office and the flash of gold at his throat.
    “Drustan!” Ti-Philippe said at my side, frowning. “What in seven hells is the Cruarch of Alba doing making for the Three Sisters? He ought to be headed for port, and the Queen’s bedchamber.”
    “I don’t know.” There was a second figure beside him, smaller and slighter. Not one of his warriors, I thought, gazing across the water. It was not until we drew nigh that I recognized the figure as a woman, and not until we hove to alongside them that I realized I knew her. She was Drustan’s youngest living sister, the middle daughter, Sibeal.
    I saw him smile, dark eyes grave and unsurprised in the whorls of blue woad that tattooed his face, raising one hand in greeting. “Phèdre nó Delaunay, my brother Joscelin,” the Cruarch of Alba called from his ship, “well met.”
    His D’Angeline was excellent; it ought to be, for I had taught him. I gripped the railing and stared at him, Duré’s men murmuring behind me. “My lord Drustan,” I said in bewilderment. “How do you come here, and why?”
    Drustan mab Necthana nodded to his sister, who raised her chin to gaze at me across the divide. She had the same solemn eyes as her brother, seeming even wider-set for the twin lines of blue dots that etched her cheeks. “Sibeal had a dream,” he said simply.
    It was only meet, after that, that our forces were conjoined. It took some jostling and maneuvering to enact the transfer, but the seas became oddly calmed and we managed without much difficulty. Some few of Evrilac Duré’s men joined us; most did not, with varying degrees of relief, and Duré ordered the sea-anchor dropped. Drustan helped me aboard his flagship himself, returning my embrace warmly when I flung both arms about his neck and gave him the kiss of greeting. There are few people I like better and admire more than the Cruarch of Alba.
    And when it was done, we heard his sister’s dream.
    They are seers of a sort, the women of the Cruarch’s line. When we arrived on the shores of Alba, it was Drustan’s youngest sister, Moiread, who gave us greeting; there to meet us, she said, in answer to a dream. Moiread is dead, slain these many years ago by a Tarbh Cró spear at the Battle of Bryn Gorrydum where Drustan regained his throne. I saw that happen, too. Many more would have died, if not for Joscelin. The Cruarch has named him brother since that day.
    “I saw a rock in the waters,” Sibeal said softly, speaking in Cruithne. “And on it stood a crow. I saw the skies open and the lightnings strike, and the crow stretched out its wings in agony. I saw the waters boil, full of serpents, and the crow could not fly. I saw the skies part and a white dove fly forth and land upon the rock.” She hugged her arms around herself and gazed toward the island of Third Sister. “I saw the waters rise and the serpents lash their tails, and the crow could not fly,” she said. “I saw the dove land and open its beak, and vomit forth a diamond. And then I awoke.” Her troubled eyes turned