[ They sing and he listens, the music of the harp combining into a beautiful melody, ancient and powerful. He has gifts for the siren that he favors above all others, but he is no mortal man, does not dash his ship against the shallows and throw himself overboard. He sings back, in his own way, with magic like whalesong; he knows these beings of the sea, of the deep, and he is not afraid. He has never been afraid. ]

I have brought gifts, [ he calls out over the water at last, and he scatters raw flesh and gilded trinkets into the sea, the wolfhounds cavorting around the deck of the ship as if they, too, belonged to the ocean. ] And I have promised Ceit a swim, and would promise her more, should she so desire what I have to give.