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272 pages, Hardcover
First published August 23, 2022
The Great Skellig falls away below the Plateau like green silk, and Artt’s suddenly filled with triumph. To think that he and his monks have travelled all this way, to the hidden haven saved for them since Creation. They’ve begun their work, and God looks on it and calls it good.
Artt finds himself wondering if perhaps tales will be told about him. Is it arrogance to think it? The legend of how the priest and scholar Artt set off, with just two humble companions, in a small boat. The extraordinary pair of islands he found in the western ocean; how he claimed the higher one for God, and founded a great retreat in the clouds. The glory of the books reproduced there, and then generations of the copies� offspring. The ceaseless hum of prayer always rising from that little hive.
How did it happen that they came to this place? Was there a different way the currents and breezes could have taken the boat that would have washed them up on another, gentler island, where spring and summer and autumn might have played out differently? Or have the three of them always carried this terrible tale inside themselves?
"Of course the monks have shared every scrap of information and hearsay. Scholar, priest, hermit, Artt is the most famous visitor to Cluain Mhic Nois in the six years Trian's been here, and possibly in the half century since its founding. Now in its prime, familiar with many tongues, the sage is said to have read every book written, and has copied out dozens. Artt can work complex sums in his mind and chart the tracks of the stars. One of the band of solitairies who've been carrying the light of the Gospel from Ireland across a pagan-gripped continent, this soldier of Christ has converted whole tribes among the Picts, the Franks, even the Lombards."
"The sea is quite glassy as if God poured oil on it. As the red berry of the sun floats up into the sky, Trian can see everything: the silken fabric of the ocean, stretched out smooth with barely a ripple; flocks of voracious cormorants and moaning puffins working the waters."
"Looming over the boat, the Great Skellig's sharp magnificence. To Trian it almost looks as if its rock was formed in flat layers, then the whole thing tipped sideways. 'Every valley shall be lifted up,' Isaiah promises in the Scripture. This tiny, perfect land, stood on end; a bridge to the sky. 'O bringer of good news, go up on the high mountain.'"
"For you are God, my only safe haven. Why have you cast me off?"