understand much the night before apart from the need to stop the sea-through attacking Helen. So in the morning, with cold rain outside the tent and a hot breakfast from Sheila’s kitchen inside them, Helen and Lavender showed them the broken necklace and the goo in the clasp, and repeated everything they’d heard.
Even wide awake, no one could make any sense of it.
“What I can’t work out,” said Lavender in frustration, “is whether the sea-through’s other plan is to do with today’s race. If the failed plan was the foiled attack on Roxburgh, is the new plan to attack the Sea Herald contest?”
Helen shrugged. “It didn’t talk about the race or the contest. Just about getting stuff back for the sea. But the selkie mentioned a crown. Is there a crown in the Sea Herald contest?”
Yann and Catesby shrugged too.
“The race starts in less than an hour,” said Helen.“We have to decide if we’re telling Rona what we heard before the race or after.”
Yann sighed. “I don’t think we should tell her yet. She’s nervous enough already. A conversation about sea-through attacks and selkie traitors would not be the best pre-race preparation. She might refuse to compete at all. We should let her race, then talk to her afterwards.”
“Shouldn’t we warn her that the sea-through might be out there?” Helen objected.
“But we have no evidence that it is,” Lavender pointed out. “It didn’t mention the Sea Herald contest or the race at all.”
“She won’t be in any danger,” said Yann. “There are judges all over the course. They can’t help her with the obstacles, but they’d intervene if she was attacked by a huge jellyfish.”
Helen shook her head. “I think she has a right to know.”
But the others all agreed with Yann, so Helen put the broken necklace in her pocket, and jogged through the drizzle to Sheila’s house with their breakfast dishes. The campsite was already empty: the tents and bikes were still there, but the minibuses had gone.
As she stacked the plates in the dishwasher, she asked Sheila, who was making their packed lunches, “Where did the Scouts go so early?”
Sheila didn’t turn round, just kept putting sandwiches in bags. “They’re climbing Ben Loyal most of the day, taking their canoes out for a quick test run in the afternoon, then having a barbecue tea on the Scout leaders’ favourite beach. They won’t be anywhere near the race. Rona will be quite safe.”
“Thanks, Sheila. And thanks for breakfast.” Helen grabbed the packed lunches, and ran out to join her friends.
It was nearly eight o’clock when Helen beached the boat on the gentle eastern end of the island. Yann cantered up the hillside, Catesby flapping by his shoulder. Helen snatched Lavender out of the rainy air and sat the fairy on her shoulder. “Shelter in my hair if you feel the slightest breeze,” she ordered as she followed the others.
When she reached the ridge, where the grassy island fell sharply away into cliffs and rocky shore, Yann was already sheltering behind a roofless stone house, so he couldn’t be seen from the mainland.
Helen joined him, and stared at the never-ending, ever-moving landscape of the Atlantic stretching to the north. Then she looked at the rocks below, where a crowd of selkies, blue loons and mermaids surrounded the three contestants.
Tangaroa was limbering up on the huge starting rock with extravagant stretches, and whenever he took a break, two of his friends were covering him in protective oil, which Helen hoped wasn’t made of seal fat. Serena was perched on the edge of the rock, her tail draped elegantly into the small waves below, while two of her friends were winding her hair round her head. Rona was standing on her own, doing breathing exercises which Helen had taught her.
Yann called down, “Good morning, Storm Singer! Are you singing this rain down on us?”
Rona waved. “No, this is just Scotland in September! The rain makes no
C. J. Cherryh
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