The Demon and His Favourite

On the day our luck vanished, I awoke just after dawn with a blinding headache. It was hot for such an early hour and I felt short of breath. The air was thick, syrupy. It had an odour of damp things, old things and things long in death or slow in dying. I heard the sails being lowered and stowed. Duban cursed his rowers onto their benches. The drum sounded - increasing the pressure on my throbbing temples - and there was a shudder as the ship pulled slowly forward. It moved with difficulty, as if the water had turned to mud and I heard things rasping along the sides. I groaned up and stumbled into my clothes. As I passed Polillo's hammock to go up on deck I heard a piteous moan - I was not the only sufferer that dreaded morning.

A bizarre scene awaited me above decks. The light was a murky yellow that blurred detail; our shadows seemed bloated and indistinct. The rowers, working to a slow drumbeat, grunted at their task, rising completely off their benches with each stroke, then digging in hard with their heels as they muscled the oars through the water. Despite their labours, the ship only inched along.

The trouble was apparent. The ship - nay, the entire fleet - was mired in a vast waste of kelp. On other ships I could see men dangling from the sides on ropes, cutting away fleshy vines that'd snared them. Captain Stryker was gathering a similar work party as I approached to ask what had gone amiss.

'It's not my fault,' he growled, surprising me that he thought there was anything to defend. 'I said there was gonna be a squall last night, an' Klisura agreed, but would th' admiral listen to th' likes of us? Me, who's got so many years in th' salt you could stuff me in a brine barrel and sell me for provisions? Why, I was a sailin' master before that damned Phocas was a wet spot on his father's prong, if you'll be beggin' my pardon, Captain Antero. But th' admiral, he just listens to that ignorant son of a Lycanthian whore. Pays no mind when I says we oughta heave to, drop our sea anchors and wait'll she's done.'

The squall had awakened me during the night, but it hadn't seemed too fierce. Actually, it soothed me and I'd been easily coaxed back to sleep by the slow rolling of the ship, while listening to the sounds of the falling rain and hissing seas. As I listened to Stryker I remembered earlier days when the smallest chop sent the landlubbers among us running to spew our guts over the rail. I nearly laughed, covered with a cough, then put on my best Concern-For-My-Fellow-Officer visage.

'You saw danger in the storm, I gather?' I asked.

'Any fool could'a seen it,' Stryker said. Wasn't th' strength of th' winds that troubled me, but th' visibility. Rain was fallin' thicker'n my oldest wife's curses when I'm late from th' tavern. An' it was th' blackest night I'd seen since I was a lad just gone raidin' off th' Pepper Coast. I was fearful we'd lose each other in th' blow, or worse, come up against some reef in th' dark. Best thing to do, I signalled th' admiral, was wait it out and take new bearings in th' morning. But Phocas was all for makin' time, an' Cholla Yi agreed. Time to get where, I ask you? Don't even know where we're goin'! Anyways, we stuck together okay, although I had to practically mutiny to get 'em to hang out lanterns so's we could see each other. Then th' wind quit quicker'n a whore hauls in her tits when she sees you got an empty purse. Ain't been a breath of wind since. But that's not so bad. What's bad is what we got ourselves tangled into.'

He waved at the kelp forest, so thick that in places you couldn't see water, but only a slow rising and falling as waves passed underneath.

'Never seen a thing like it,' he said. 'Not this size and this thick! But I've heard tales. Oh, yes, I've heard things that'd get your heart movin' right sprightly.'

'I'm sure you have, Captain Stryker,' I said. 'But I hope you keep those tales to yourself until we're out of this. No sense frightening people unnecessarily.'

'If we do get out,' Stryker said darkly.

I paid no mind to his gloomy words. He was only trying to add drama to the wrong that had been done him and what had come of Cholla Yi ignoring his sensible advice.

'We'll be all right,' he said, relenting to reveal his true thoughts. 'Just need us another good blow and we'll be out and smellin' sweet.'

But we didn't get another good blow. Not a breath of air stirred that day, or the next, or for many a day to follow. And it was hot. By the gods who forsook us yet again, it was hot. The yellow haze that cloaked us only seemed to intensify that heat, making us feel we were simmering at the bottom of a soup kettle. Meanwhile, the kelp prison tightened about us. We found what seemed to be a channel leading out, cut our way to it, then muscled each ship into the passage. But that channel, instead of carrying us out, led us into a maze of deadends and narrows that curved back on themselves, and others that went deeper and deeper into that tangle. We had no choice but to go on, for no sooner had we hacked a passage and rowed through it, than it closed behind us, with the kelp quickly tangling itself again.

I cast the bones each day, but they had returned to the stultifying sameness as before. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how I cast them, the identical pattern showed up again and again. And that pattern, Gamelan had taught, showed no change in our near future. As the crew laboured in the awful heat, dragging us foot by foot through the watery forest, Gamelan and I tried every trick the old wizard knew to raise a wind.

We got out the magical wind bags that had been brought along for just this purpose. They were the best Gamelan and his assistant Evocators could create before we left Lycanth. Much magical talent had gone into them, but all for naught. Each time I performed the ceremony and recited the words to call forth the winds, when the bag was opened only a hot, foul-smelling gas escaped. Gamelan worried over this, saying a spell must have been cast over this immense sargasso to assure no wind could ever disturb its horrible symmetry.

The deeper we drew into it, however, the more it changed. What had first appeared like a gently rolling plain, soon proved a false perception. Once in the canals, the seaweed piled higher and higher, in places forming banks that reached half the height of a ship's mast. The kelp branches were tumbled into all kinds of odd shapes. Some appeared to be the turrets of a fleshy, brown-toned castle. Others took on the images of people, or beasts. I passed one I swore looked like a woman's torso growing out of a rearing mare's body. Astride that mare was a young woman, breasts heaving, tresses flying, as if she and her steed were moving at speed. Polillo said I was only seeing such things because I'd been too long without a lover. I laughed, but secretly worried she was right.

A week into our struggle we broke into a channel whose current moved more swifdy. It was still a leisurely pace, to be sure, but to see any motion at all in this swamp was a cheery sight. The joy, however, was short-lived. It was Santh - old Pillow Nose, himself - who ended it. One minute I was conversing with Stryker, the next we were running forward, beckoned by Santh's hoarse cry. We had to push our way through a knot of crewmen to reach him at the bow, where he stood pale and jabbering nonsense.

'What is it, man?' Stryker said.

But Santh was too hysterical to respond. 'May th' gods forgive me,' he wailed. 'I've been such a villain all me life, but no man deserves t' die like this!'

Stryker grabbed him roughly by the shirt front. 'Quit blubberin', you fool,' he barked. 'You ain't dead. And you ain't got no cause to fear it.'

Santh recovered enough to jab a shaking finger to his right. 'Look, Captain,' he cried. 'Look!'

We peered in the direction he pointed. I saw something greyish-white poking through the kelp forest. As I recognized it with a jolt, I heard Stryker suck in a fearful breath.

'By Te-Date, we're in for it now,' he harshed.

We were looking at the picked-clean bones of a human skeleton. A small crab scuttled out of an empty eye socket, waved its claws about, then scurried back inside. I looked closer and saw the rotting rags of the man's clothing scattered about. Just to one side was what appeared to be a belaying pin.

'Th' poor whore's son,' Stryker muttered, pitying his fellow mariner. He turned back to Santh and the others. 'Get your arses back to your duties, lads,' he snarled. 'There's no lesson to be learned here, 'cept what's plain as that sack of puddin' Santh calls a nose.' He pointed at the skeleton. 'There's a lad what didn't listen to his cap'n's orders. And his ship had to sail without him, leavin' his bones for th' crabs to sup on.'

He harangued them some more to get some spleen into them and they went back to work - looking nervously over their shoulders as they went about their business.

'Well dealt with,' I said in praise.

Stryker shook his head. 'I'm a lyin' shit, and they knows it,' he said. 'Weren't for th' conjurin' you did back on that island, there'd be no talkin' to 'em.' He shuddered. 'We knows th' gods be with us. We seen that right plain. But they ain't makin' it easy on us, Captain Antero. Not one bit, they ain't.'

He moved on to keep watch on his men, leaving me to gnaw on my guilty knowledge that my vision had promised nothing. Our future might lie west, but only the gods knew how it would end - or when. At the moment that future might well be to have our bones picked by the low forms that scuttled about in our prison, just like the mariner we'd seen. I was about to seek out Gamelan for counsel when the uneasy peace was destroyed again. There was a shout from our lookout. I didn't need to be told what he'd seen, because no sooner had the cry burst from his lips than I saw for myself.

Both banks had become an enormous charnel house. Countless skeletons - both of men and animals - littered the scene. Some were whole and still carried the remnants of clothes, others were hurled about, with their large bones burst open, as if cracked by scavengers for the marrow. Some of the crew wept, others spewed their guts over the sides, while the rest stood pale and mumbling prayers to whatever gods they hoped might rescue them from such an end. As that horror burned itself into our dreams, the channel turned, spreading into a small lagoon, and an even greater terror was unveiled.

The rotted hulks of ships of every age and nation spread out before us. Some were caught in the tangle by the edge of the lagoon, others jutted out of the kelp as far as the eye could see across the slow-rolling plain. Some of the ships were of recent design, but others were - even to my untutored eye - of great age and scabbed with centuries of time. The whole thing was a great graveyard of all the ships that had been lost without a trace since history's beginnings.

Something made me duck and as I did so, a shadow passed over me. I heard a squeal of startled pain as an object struck a sailor behind me. I dropped to the deck and tuck-rolled back to my feet, drawing my sword as I rose, and dodging once again as a missile hurled past. A shrill chorus of battle-cries rent the air and scores of heavy objects crashed down. I saw skinny, naked figures swinging from the banks on kelp vines, brandishing all manner of weapons. A rusted spear was thrust at me, I brushed it aside and cut my attacker down, roaring for my Guardswomen to repel boarders.

The deck swarmed with small brown figures with limbs so slender they looked as if you could snap them with two fingers. But they made up for size with fierceness and surprise. Many sailors went down under the first rush, but as my women smashed into our attackers, the crew rallied, clubbing with anything in their reach. I saw Corais and Gerasa - a superb bow-woman - shielded by an axe-swinging Polillo, fire arrow after arrow into our attackers. Three rushed at me. My left hand found my knife and I put my back against the mast as the three crowded in. The one on my left jabbed with a trident. With a quick blow of my sword, I cut it off at the haft, ducked forward and came up to slip my dagger between his ribs. It stuck as he fell, so I left it there and pivoted, making a two-handed slice at the axeman beside him. My blade bit deep, nearly cutting him in two. Blood spurted from his wound, blinding me. As I desperately yanked on my sword to pull it free, I felt the presence of the third man rushing forward. I dropped to my knees and he tripped over me. Before he could recover, I'd ripped my blade free and chopped blindly at him. It was a lucky stroke - lucky for me, at any rate - and it sliced through his kidney as he tried to roll away. He shrieked and before I'd clawed the gore from my eyes he was choking a death-rattle.

Somewhere a horn trumpeted and by the time I'd reached my feet again, our enemies were scuttling away. But as they ran, many were carrying grisly burdens - arms and legs and huge pieces of flesh hacked from the bodies of our fallen comrades. And it was no rout -they were retreating in an orderly fashion, with flying squads to protect those burdened with meat.

I rallied my women and we charged into those remaining on the deck, but we'd only managed to kill a few before the rest scampered off jeering as they scuttled along kelp vines thicker than a large man's trunk. I heard sounds of fighting on the other ships, but that too faded to be replaced by the shrill ridicule of our attackers. I could see lines of naked bodies moving along like ants. They converged into a single column and headed off. I sheathed my sword and swarmed up the foremast to see where they were going.

I found Santh's tall skinny friend cowering on the foretop. He was blubbering something, but I paid no attention as I peered this way and that until I spied the line of men. In the distance I saw an enormous mound shaped like a ship. I looked closer and saw it was a ship - like no other that I'd ever seen. It was so huge it could have housed our whole fleet. The top consisted of a crazy scrap-wood edifice that formed three turret-like structures - the one in the centre towering twice as high over the others. Smoke curled out of its peaked roof. The line of men snaked towards the strange ship and in a few minutes I saw them disappear into a huge maw of a hole that pierced the side.

I shinned down, ordering my officers to set guards and see to the needs of my troops, and sent for Cholla Yi. As I waited, I learned that I'd only suffered a few wounded, and those were minor. Poor Stryker, however, had lost ten men - and all of their corpses had been carried away.

'But we gave better'n' we took,' he said with grim satisfaction.

Our attackers had left thirty-six bodies behind, but I saw no cause for celebration. They were hardly in mourning when they'd fled with their booty of limbs and flesh hacked from our comrades. That they were cannibals was no great revelation. What puzzled me more was why they all looked like such starvelings, with arms and legs like twigs and swollen bellies. Water was a problem in these plant-choked seas, but not food. There was much edible life among the kelp vines, and a plenitude of fish to be got out of the channels. But all of the corpses sported the orange-tinted hair and swollen bellies of malnutrition and the running sores pocking their skin would've never healed if they'd lived.

Admiral Cholla Yi arrived shaken by the encounter, but spoiling for a fight.

'They're nothing but bags of bones,' he scoffed. 'They caught us by surprise, is all. Who'd expect anything human to be living in this perdition? They're probably nothing more than survivors off those wrecks. And they aren't trained fighters. Most of those hulks look like merchantmen.'

I agreed. 'It's not likely they've ever encountered a war fleet before. If we try to work our way back out, they'll pick us off a few at a time. But if we put the fear of the gods in them now, they'll cower in their bolt-holes until we're well gone.'

'One thing to take note of,' Gamelan broke in, Ms they seem to act in concert, and with purpose. Which means they have leaders - perhaps even a master.'

I nodded. 'Probably makes his headquarters in that big ship I saw them parading into. Maybe that's where we strike.' 'It would seem so,' Gamelan said. 'But that's not what I was getting at. What occurs to me is this might be the opportunity we've been hoping for. There's no doubt in my mind there's some kind of magical force at work in this place - the permanent lack of wind, this maze of vegetation. It was created, not formed by nature.' 'A wizard?' I asked.

'Perhaps,' Gamelan replied. 'It could be other things, of course, but I'd really prefer it to be someone we can bargain with to find a means to escape this place.'

'Far as I can see,' Stryker said, 'we got nothin' they want, but th' skin we're walkin' around in. So there's nothin' to bargain. I'm with th' admiral. I say we fight.'

But I had glimmer of what Gamelan was getting at. A plan began to form in my mind. 'I'm in complete agreement, gentlemen,' I said. 'But perhaps there's also something in what Lord Gamelan says. I propose we try to accomplish both. Cow our enemy, and find passage out at the same time.'

I laid out my plan. There was some grumbling, but gradually agreement was reached - we would attack that night.

I took nine of my best soldiers, including Polillo, Ismet, and Jacara, a swift, sure-footed runner. I left Corais in charge of the others and had her post archers to watch for our return, making sure Gerasa was among them.

We wore only what was needed for modesty, darkened our skin -except for Ismet, who had no need - and blackened our weapons. Gamelan helped me conjure up a tarry substance that we painted on our bare feet and when we went over the side onto the immense ropes of kelp, our footing was as secure as it could be on the pitching, slippery terrain. We had a full moon to contend with, but the mist rising up from the cooling vegetation nearly obscured it. Jacara took the lead. I followed, with Ismet close behind, and Polillo - her big axe strapped to her back - protected the rear.

I knew if we were successful, our return trip would be at a dead run. To help, Gamelan had me mix special oil, which Polillo carried in a leather flask. She sprinkled drops on the vines as she went. They were nearly invisible and Polillo groused about what seemed to be a pointless task, but I assured her at the right time the purpose would be quite clear. I'd also ordered scores of fire beads hung from the mast of our ship so it would be easy to find our way. As for our target - that monstrous ship - getting to it would not be difficult. At dusk the high centre tower had ht like a huge beacon. Strange raucous music trumpeted out, interspersed with wild, blood-chilling howls. Some kind of victory feast, we surmised. Or perhaps our skinny friends were working themselves up for another attack on the morrow. In either case, I fully intended to spoil their celebration.

It took time to get used to clambering across the odd terrain. The whole mass was in constant motion, rolling with the seas. In places where the growth was thinner the water would geyser up without warning and it was all we could do to keep our balance. To make things more difficult, a foot might go through a space between the vines, threatening to pitch us on our faces, or smaller tendrils might tangle in our harness. There were also weak places where you could plunge down into the depths below. I had to be hauled out once, and Polillo, with her greater weight, went in three times. It was not a pleasant experience. The water was warm and viscous and filled with scuttling little things that nipped at me with sharp claws and teeth. Instead of a pool, the hole was more like a watery nest, choked with barnacled vines that rasped on the flesh. As I fell through and the water rose above my head, I was overcome by fear something was watching. As my head emerged I sensed it was slithering for me. It was all I could do to force myself to remain calm so my companions could haul me out. As I lay panting by the side of the break, bubbles rose on the surface and when they burst there was a smell of rotting things. I shivered and nearly retched as my imagination supplied several unpleasant sources of the bubbles and the smell. The loathsome sensation of being in that nest troubles my sleep to this day. The whole time I had the disgusting notion that not only was I about to become something's dinner, but that I'd first be humiliated in the foulest ways possible before I was fit for it to eat. Each time Polillo went in I knew what she suffered and nearly lost my rations as I worked frantically with the others to get her out.

Eventually we discovered the easiest method to make our way was to trust to instinct and go full force. With the agile Jacara at the lead, we ran along the vines, hesitating only when we'd reach the top of a rolling mass of kelp, then leaping forward to the next and running until another wave caught up to us. It took us over an hour to learn this method of locomotion and in that time made only a short distance. But once we abandoned clumsy caution it took us less than fifteen minutes to reach the hulk.

We dropped to our bellies and crept cautiously towards the gaping entrance. Corais hand-signalled an absence of guards, but that didn't ease my worry. I was heeding Gamelan's warning before we left that traps can take many more forms than nature and the ugly side of human ingenuity can create. I motioned a halt and slipped up to where Janela waited. I made signs for her to stay and crept onward, moving only a foot or so at a time, then stopped, pushing out with all my senses.

I felt dusty threads touch my cheek and adhere like a spider web. I nearly brushed them away, then froze. I backed up slightly, then slowly reached a hand forward - closing my eyes and concentrating. It was difficult because the strange music had grown even louder, hurting my ears and scratching at my bones. Finally my fingers touched the sorcerous web. I stopped. My fingers began to tingle. Very slowly I drew them back, feeling the magical threads cling, then fall gently away.

Gamelan had instructed me what to do before we left the ship. 'Since I have no powers,' he'd said, 'I cannot tell you what kind of sorcery awaits. You will need to adapt yourself to what you encounter. To elude our enemies, you will have to wear their skin.'

I signalled the others to join me. Making motions, I alerted them to the trap, then had them huddle around me in a tight knot. I pulled a small balloon of spun glass from my belt pouch and shattered it in my palm with my knife haft. A speckled powder spilled out. It smelled of fish bone and insect parts. The bone, Gamelan said, was actually the ground beaks of cuttlefish, mixed with a bit of their dried ink. The insects were the similarly treated husks of a beetle that lives in great colonies on flowering plants. To feed and live in safety, they'd learned to form themselves into green twigs and leaves and the multicoloured flowers of their host. I stretched my palm flat and blew the dust into my companions' faces. Then I sprinkled the residue - glass and all - on my head, and whispered the spell:

Form and Shadow,

Shadow and Form

Paired wings that

Carry the night-bird

In my mind I became small and weak and without pride. Hunger

burned in my gut. A voice wept inside:

I am dying!

Poor me. Poor

dying me.

The weeping turned into a wailing plea:

Help me, Great Master.

Oh, please, Master,

if only I could... eat.

I heard low groans from the others as they sank into misery. Instinctively, I fought the weakness, but knew that until the right moment I must give way. I let myself go, struggling only to keep a kernel of reason alive. I became pitifully fragile again, and hungry -so hungry. I babbled to my Master, my good, kind Master for food. Something dark and ugly stirred and said I must obey Him in all things. My thoughts shrilled agreement and abasement and the ugliness chortled acceptance. I became glad as hatred flooded in, numbing the hunger. The hatred gave me strength and it was directed at - my fleet! They must die, all of them must die. Then and only then could I feed! I almost broke under that hot outpouring of anger. It was time to act, but I didn't have the will. I searched frantically for that seed of self I'd planted. Just as I was about to give up hope, abandoning myself to my Master, I found it. I gripped it hard in my mind. Tighter and tighter still, until I could feel my hands reflexing into fists and my nails biting deep into my palms. Sweat burst from my pores, and then I felt a coolness. Strength returned and I rose and one by one took my weeping companions by the hand and led them through the magical web. It parted, accepting us - sensing no danger. We rested on the other side, quite whole again, with only a ravening thirst to mark the ordeal. I made no protest as each of my women emptied the flasks of watered wine we carried. This would be the last chance we had to drink.

There was no one to stop us or give the alarm as we went through the cavernous entrance into what appeared to have once been an enormous ship's hold. We almost bolted as soon as we entered. It was filled with men. But they seemed asleep, or spellbound, as they twisted and groaned on the deck. I suspected the latter because the sound of the celebration echoed even louder than before, but did not seem to disturb them - at least not as much as their dreams. We crept through the men, stepping over, or dodging as they thrashed about in some nightmare's grip. I stopped at a massive wooden pillar in the centre, pulled out a long piece of red thread and wrapped it about the post. We went on, stopping now and again for me to tie other bits of thread around likely timbers and supports.

We climbed ladders to a higher deck; went along passages and climbed again. The only people we saw were asleep, and all of them were men. Everywhere we went I found dry timbers for my thread. At last we came out into the open on the main-deck. Towering above us was the central turret. Stairs spiralled up. At the top, circular windows spilled light and sound. The light was so intense our shadows were cast huge across the empty deck. I left Ismet and five others behind to guard our retreat, and sprinted to the tower - Jacara and Polillo. at my heels. Once there, the two of them split off in opposite directions to scout the circumference of the turret, while I got out my last spool of thread. There was just enough to complete the job. We tied it around the turret - circling it twice. I made the final knot. Now it was time to spring the trap. But before I did, I wanted to see who we faced.

I motioned for Ismet to wait and Polillo and I went up the staircase. At the top it joined a circular deck. There was an open door to one side. I could see figures prancing about. On the other side was one of the windows. Polillo and I moved toit, crouching low. Then we came cautiously up to look. Polillo sucked in her breath in shock. I don't know what either of us expected, but what we witnessed in that turret chamber is not a tale to tell to children, or even hardened companions over a jug of wine and a tavern roast.

It was an immense room, containing all the goods looted from the ships that had been caught in the sargasso net. There were great piles of finery and trunks of gems and golden plate. Stacked all around were sacks of what appeared to be grain and rare spices. The walls were cluttered with all manner of tapestries, draped brocades and silk. Old weapons and shields and armour also hung from the walls, as well as odd, rusted machines whose original purpose I could not decipher. In the centre of the room a pot large enough to feed an army bubbled and smoked over leaping flames. The fire shot out so many different hot colours that I knew it must be magical. Hunks of flesh roiled about inside the pot. It gave off a smell I do not care to dwell on. The music the men, danced to blared out from everywhere and nowhere. At intervals a man would dart from the pack, jam his bare hand in the boiling liquid, screaming in pain as he fished about until he caught a hunk of meat and pulled it out. Then he'd gobble at it madly, sobbing all the while. But no sooner would he choke down a few bites than several others would claw and fight to grab a morsel away.

I was so shaken it was a moment before I saw who presided over the insanity. But there was no mistaking who the master was. The demon was sprawled across a raised platform, carpeted with thick tapestries. From his yellow-taloned feet to the single barbed horn that curled from his forehead, he was at least two javelin-lengths long. The horn was mottled white and shot with red, like fat from a butchered pig. His arms were long, like an ape's, and his hands were taloned, as were his feet. He had death-white scales for skin and a long, barbed tail that lashed about in pleasure each time a man made the painful trip to the boiling pot. Although he was long in length, his body carried no extra weight. He was all heavy bone, big knotted joints, ribs like ship's staves, and long cabled muscles. His horned head was flat and shovel-shaped, with two red-rimmed holes for a nose and sharp ribbed bone for lips. As we watched, another fight erupted. In the struggle for food one of them mistakenly ripped the flesh away from another man's arm with his teeth, but gobbled it down without hesitation. The beast I knew to be the Master howled in delight. It was the same unearthly sound we'd heard shrieking over the music since we began our journey. His teeth were pointed and as long as a finger, his tongue a quick-flickering ribbon of greyish pink.

It is unfair of me to brand the demon 'him', for I cannot say with certainty he was not actually a she. I have been fortunate to know more good men than evil and have always been well treated by those men most important to me. Sol must apologize for this description, but it's how I think of that demon to this day. Although he was naked, I could not tell what manner of sexual organ was between the demon's legs. I saw only a bulbous white lump, ringed with red. I did not care to let my gaze linger to see if a penis emerged when he became most amused at the painful antics of his slaves.

Polillo nudged me and pointed. On a broad, carpeted step just below the platform I saw the source of the music. It was a woman - the only woman we'd seen among the demon's slaves. She was also the only person we'd seen who was fat. Naked as the others, she had immense breasts that drooped over a bulging middle, legs and arms so obese they looked nearly useless and she sat on huge hams wreathed with roll after roll of fat. She was short - even seated you could see she wouldn't stand much higher than a normal person's belt buckle. Her hair hung in greasy strings from a head so small in all that obesity that it looked like a doll's. Her eyes were mere dots and she had a little bow of a mouth that she kept pursed as she played on an odd lyre-like instrument. It had a deep black frame and was strung with strands of a grey, fleshy-looking material that gleamed with moisture that oozed down along the strings as she played. Her hands moved smoothly over the lyre, stroking rather than plucking the strings. All sorts of sounds screeched out to the rhythm of the whirling men. Beside her was a wooden trencher the size of a small table and on it were heaped masses of food - mounds of grain mush, lumps of boiled meat clotted with fat, and heaps of crabs and other shellfish.

The Master seemed to tire of his amusements. His tail flicked out to stroke the woman. She turned to him and drooled what I think was a smile. She nodded as if he'd spoken and stopped playing. In the silence, the men immediately fell to the floor, abasing themselves to the demon.

‘We love you, Master,' they chorused. 'You are all that is love and all that is beauty and all that is good.'

The demon opened his mouth and spoke: 'I give you eat,' he said. His voice rasped out dry and rattling like a serpent's warning.

'Yes, Master,' the men cried. 'You give us eat.'

'Others not eat,' the demon said.

'They are unworthy, Master,' the men responded.

'I give them sleep,' the demon said.

'Sleep, yes sleep. You give them the gift of sleep.'

As he spoke the woman was stuffing herself with food from the trencher. She ate with both hands and food spilled from her mouth and ran in streams down her chin to drip on her pendulous breasts.

'Tomorrow, more eat,' the demon said. 'Tomorrow all eat!'

The men became so excited their chorus shattered into all manner of wild praises.

'Tomorrow,' the demon continued, 'you go ships. Bring more eat for all.'

I felt Polillo shudder. He was speaking of us. The men screamed promises to kill us all. But they grew suddenly quiet as the demon rose to his full height, towering over them.

'Not kill all,' he roared. 'Kill some. Keep some. Slaves for Master. Eat for Master.' The men groaned agreement, vowing obedience in all things.

The demon turned to the woman. She was scooping food into her mouth, but seemed to sense that he wanted her and stopped in mid-shovel.

She said: 'Master eat now, yes?' Her voice was gentle, little-girl-sweet.

'Yes. Bring good eat,' the demon said.

The woman shook the food off her hands - almost daintily, and rose. She waddled among the kneeling men, poking them, pinching their arms and haunches and groins. After she had gone among them all, she circled once again, making sure. Four men were tapped on the shoulder.

They shrieked in false joy. 'Thank you, Master. Thank you for finding me worthy.'

The demon gestured and they scuttled forward on their knees.

His tail whipped out and plucked one of the men off the floor. The barbed end drove into the man's flesh and the demon lifted him up, babbling in terror and pain. Then he plunged the man into the boiling pot, howling with glee as the man screamed and writhed. Then he drew him out, still alive and struggling, dangled him over his mouth and began to eat. He started on the toes and crunched upward, all the more to enjoy the man's agony.

I turned away from the window, gut roiling. I could bear no more. I looked at Polillo, ghastly pale with sickness. Neither of us could speak. We put our arms around one another, finding sanity and warmth in the embrace. Polillo sniffled back tears and drew away.

'I would like very much to kill that... thing,' she said.

'I promise him to you,' I said, 'if we get the chance.'

We fled back down the stairs, gathered Jacara and the others and retreated the way we had come. In a few minutes we were slipping through the heaps of spellbound men and then we were outside, catching our breath in the moist night air. When we were ready I ordered everyone to take up position just outside the yawning entrance. Polillo grinned evilly, unsheathed her axe, and began slicing this way and that to limber up. The others drew their various weapons and stretched stiff muscles while I knelt and began my preparations. I unrolled a thin sheet of leather, marked with symbols Gamelan had me copy out of his book. I used a few sticks of magical incense for tinder, sprinkled on a bit of powdered charcoal Gamelan said came from a holy tree and struck a long spark with flint and steel. The spark ignited the tinder and I blew gently into the small pile until a steady glow burned on the leather parchment. I'd saved a small bit of the red thread. This I dipped into a vial of oil and dangled over the glowing particles while I chanted:

He who dwells In fire...

She who sleeps In flame...

I release you!

There was a small flash of heat and light as I dropped the thread onto the parchment. Quickly I rolled it up into a tube. I rose, swinging the tube about my head until it burst into flames. Although my whole hand seemed alight, I felt no heat or pain. I rushed to the entrance and hurled the burning mass inside. It fell near a knot of sleeping men. No one stirred as the parchment tube began to hiss and throw off a shower of sparks. I stood there watching, cold with guilt, as the flames grew higher and brighter. In the centre of the hold I saw the thread I'd tied about the big post begin to glow. Then the post exploded into flame. Still, not one man stirred. I backed out, looking up to see other places where I had tied the thread glow into hot life, then burst into hungry, licking flames.

We heard the first screams as the centre turret caught and became a roaring wall of fire. I saw naked men run out onto the landing, but it caught as well, enveloping them, turning them into charred, writhing flesh. Then the landing collapsed, spreading fire across the big main-deck.

I heard a bellow of enraged pain and looked up to see the demon break through one of the windows. He clung there for a moment, then reached in to pull out the woman. He put her on his shoulders, then climbed to the top of the turret. He stood there, flames all around him, head swivelling this way and that. Then he seemed to look direcdy at us. His taloned hand shot out, stabbing at us and he roared in fury.

'Awake!' he shouted. 'Awake!'

In the hold I heard screams of agony as the spellbound men came to and found themselves on fire, or surrounded by flame.

'Kill them!' the demon shouted. 'Kill them!'

Men came stumbling out of the smoke, some on fire, some coughing blackness, but they were not fleeing, but charging us, clawing with their nails, or stabbing with swords they'd scrabbled up when the demon awoke them. But they were helpless before my women. Polillo howled her battle-cry and leaped in, chopping about with her axe. Ismet and the others called for Maranonia to give them strength and cut down anyone within reach. Within a few short minutes the rolling kelp ground around them was heaped with bodies and slick with flowing blood. The men were hurled back into the inferno to die. Some tried to break free, but each time, my women fought so furiously that the only escape was a fiery death.

I held back, watching to see what the demon would do next. He was howling with helpless fury, screaming for his slaves to attack. A sheet of flame burst through the roof of the turret and he leaped back. The woman lost her grip and fell from her perch, screaming as she plummeted downward. She hit, seeming to bounce as the kelp absorbed the shock and then I saw her rise up, screaming with fear.

Polillo,' I shouted. She turned her blood-spattered face towards me and I pointed at the woman, who was only a few feet away. 'I want her!'

Polillo bounded over and as the woman tried to scramble away, Polillo clubbed her down with the flat of her axe, scooped her up and threw her over her shoulder.

The demon howled in fury. More flames exploded through the roof of the turret. But instead of destroying him, they seemed only to make him stronger. His body glowed with energy and he seemed to be growing longer. The glow became an armoured carapace and as I watched, six insect-like legs shot out from his sides, pivoting in muscular sockets. He came scuttling down the sides of the turret, straight through the fire. His jaws sprouted snapping mandibles as he ran, and his long barbed tail dripped with venom.

I shouted for the others to retreat and we all turned and ran. I sent Jacara speeding ahead to alert the ship. The path was plain before us. The oil Polillo had dribbled behind us was now a luminescent path straight to my ship and safety.

I chanced a look over my shoulder as I ran and saw the demon drop to the ground. He screamed for his slaves and I saw the survivors boiling out, gnashing their teeth and crying for our blood.

Then the demon called my name: 'Antero! I kill you, Antero!'

I only ran harder, leaping over the nests where Polillo and I had fallen through. As I neared the last one a tentacle curled out. It was huge and ringed with gaping suckers. It snaked around Ismet and she cried out in pain. But before the beast could tighten its grasp I was there, my sword slicing through the tentacle. The kelp erupted under us as the beast reacted to the pain. Ismet stripped away the still writhing stump, and I saw bloody scars where the suckers had bit. We ran on, but the time lost was enough for our enemy to gain. They were right on our heels, now, and behind them the demon was cursing and hissing and urging them on.

I saw our ship and at the same moment heard a great rushing as our archers fired their volley. Behind me, men cried out as the arrows found their marks. When Polillo reached the ship, she flung our captive on board, then turned to unlimber her axe.

'Come on you swine-lovers,' she shouted. 'I've got something sweet for you.' She whirled the axe above her head.

Some of the men cut in to flank us and she hammered them down as Ismet and the others were helped aboard. From the deck, another flight of arrows was sent a-hunting. Finally, I reached the ship. I turned to join Polillo, but saw the demon was calling his slaves back. Scores of bodies heaped the rolling plain, all eerily lit by the fire that was consuming the demon's lair. As for the demon, I saw him transform back to his original shape, then snarling and hissing, lead his men deep into the darkness, until I could see them no more.

'They gave up too easily,' Polillo grumbled. 'I was just getting warmed up.'

'Don't worry,' I gasped. 'He'll be back.'

Exhausted, I climbed on board into the welcoming arms of my Guardswomen. They all cheered and pounded our backs and passed around wineskins to slake our thirst.

I upended a bag and drank mightily, letting the cool wine overflow and spill down my body. Tiredness fled the boozy river. I felt very well indeed. It hadn't been a great victory, but it was good enough for now.

I slept for a few hours and rose early, quite refreshed, to prepare for our next encounter with the demon. I had no doubt he'd come, especially since we had his favourite slave for bait. Her name was Chahar, and she was quite nonplussed at being a captive. I had a tent made of cheerful material erected on the main-deck and had her brought to me for interrogation.

'You'll be sorry,' she said as soon as she entered. 'My Master, " Elam, loves me. He'll make you pay.'

I didn't tell her I was counting on her dear Elam trying that very thing. I merely indicated some soft pillows I'd had installed for her to plant her naked haunches on. Polillo hovered over her, anxious to apply whatever pain was necessary to learn what we needed to know. The image of the demon's chamber of horrors haunted her, as it did me, and it was not unnatural for her to want revenge for all those poor souls.

'Give me the fat little bitch for half an hour,' she growled. 'She'll spill her guts, or I'll cut them out to make sausage for our supper.'

Chahar shrank back in fear. I gave Polillo a wink, saying, 'We shouldn't be too hasty. Perhaps we have been wrong about Lord Elam.'

Gamelan, who was also in attendance for the questioning took up my theme. 'You are quite right, Captain Antero,' he said. 'We could have misjudged the good Lord Elam. Perhaps he really is a good master who will treat us handsomely if we serve him well.'

'Oh, he would? Chahar said. 'He can really be very kind. He just acts angry sometimes because he's so sad.'

'Sad?' Gamelan asked. 'Why would such a powerful lord be sad?'

'He's lonely 'cause he can't go home,' she answered.

'Oh, really}' I said. 'Tell us more, my dear. And while you're at it, Legate Polillo will bring you something to eat. This has all been such a trial, I'm sure you're famished.'

'Well, I could eat just a little bit,' she said, holding two fingers slightly apart for illustration. 'It wouldn't be polite for me to refuse.'

Polillo glowered, but I tipped her another wink and the glower stretched into the best smile she could make under the circumstances -more a curling sneer than anything. She went off to do my bidding. I sat down on the deck next to Chahar and chatted idly about this and that until Polillo returned. She'd caught on to what I intended, and enlisted some help to bring huge platters of every variety of food we could manage. Chahar plunged in with both fists, and was soon a greasy mess.

When I thought her lulled enough by bloat, I resumed my questioning. 'You said your Master couldn't return home. Why is that?'

Chahar daintily wiped away a gob of food dangling from her lower lip.' 'Cause he's lost,' she said. 'See, he's not from here. He's from...' she waved her hands, searching for words. They didn't come. '... Not from this place. Not from any place. Sort of.'

'You mean, another world?' Gamelan asked.

'Yes,' Chahar said. 'Not our world. But another one. That's where he's from. That's where his home is.'

'How did that come to be?' I asked.

'Well. He 'splained it to me once, and it's kind of hard to remember everything. And I'm not too smart. I'm not too good at most anything. Except making my Master happy. I know what he wants, even if he doesn't ask me out loud. I can make him happv. That's what I'm good at.'

Gamelan's bushy eyebrows raised over blind eyes. 'She is his Favourite,' he said to me.

'Oh, I am!' Chahar said brighdy. 'I'm his favourite over everybody else.'

I knew that's not what Gamelan meant. He meant her role was the same minor demons played to some wizards in our world, such as the little fellow who cooked Gamelan's meals and now did my bidding when I needed small tasks performed. But I didn't say this. I patted her hand.

'I'm sure you are, my dear,' I said. 'Now, tell me, how did Lord Elam find himself in this terrible predicament?'

'As near as I remember, he said he was brought here by an evil wizard. He was ... uh, summoned ... that's the word. And this bad wizard was so powerful that my Master couldn't help himself. So he came. And the wizard made him do things. And then the wizard was killed in some kind of fight, and now my Master doesn't know how to get back home. He's lost, you see. And he's been lost for maybe two hundred years.'

She made a broad gesture with one hand, indicating the great sargasso we were trapped in. 'It's taken him all this time to make this. So he has a place to live, and can eat, and get servants and everything. He says it's sort of like a big spider's web. Except it's not really that big. That's what he says, at least. He's making it bigger all the time.'

I pretended to scoff at this. 'Come now! No one could have made something like this. Even your Master isn't powerful enough for that!'

Chahar was indignant. 'He certainly did! And he keeps on doing it. He makes the winds stop. And he makes the kelp grow and stick together. And he makes the others happy, even when he hurts them. He doesn't do that 'cause he's mean, or anything. It just makes his food taste better. 'Sides, he never hurts me. Well, maybe a teensy bit when he needs some of my blood for his magic. And that's not very bad. I make a little cut and drip some of my blood in his cup, which he mixes some other stuff in. It only stings a little, and he's so kind he lets me eat extra whenever he does, so I don't mind so much.'

'Why did he choose you for this, my dear?' Gamelan asked. 'What makes your blood so special?'

Chahar scooped up more food. 'My father was a witch,' she said, matter-of-factly. She ate. We waited until she swallowed. 'I'm not a witch. But my father was. Then he died. And the new witch made a big ceremony for the funeral. My people built a long boat and put all his stuff in it. Also me and my mother and all my brothers and sisters. Ten of us, there were, 'sides my mother. Then they pulled the boat out and let the current get it and it took us away. Far away. Finally, I got here. And my Master found me.'

'Just you?' I asked. 'What happened to the others?'

Chahar shrugged. 'They got dead,' she said. 'We didn't have any food. So we had to eat the ones that died all by themselves. Then they started looking at me, 'cause I'm kinda fat, I guess. So one night I killed the ones who were left. With a knife. While they were asleep. Then I had plenty of food.' She gnawed on a bird haunch. Then she said: 'I ate my mother last. She was pretty skinny. Anyway, that's how I got here. And I guess my blood is special because even though I'm not a witch, I got enough of my father in me to make my blood just right for my Master's magic'

We were all struck dumb by her adventures.

Gamelan was the first to recover. He said: 'That makes you very ...' he coughed '... special, indeed, my dear. But, tell us, don't you ever miss your home? Your people?'

Chahar gave a vigorous shake of her head, quaking her fat from jowl to thigh. 'Never,' she said. 'They weren't nice to me. Ever. Not even when I made the stick charts for them. The hunters would just grab them out of my hands and say mean things.'

'Stick charts?' I said, trying to hide my excitement. 'What stick charts?'

'The ones my father had me make, silly,' she said. 'Sometimes the hunters have to go a long way in their boats, so my father would give them stick charts so they could find their way to the places they had to go where there was game, and then get back.'

*Why did he have you make them?'

Chahar gave me a look like I was a dunce. "Cause we had to have lots of them. And they'd get lost or broken. So we'd have to make more. My father didn't have time to do all that, and my brothers and sisters were always busy working. I wasn't good at it, but since I used to get sick a lot and couldn't work, my father had me do it. Then he'd bless them and that was that!' 'Could you make one, now?' I asked.

Chahar snorted.' 'Course I could. I'm not smart, but I did so many of them I could never forget. Sometimes I even dream about it.' She shuddered. 'When I have bad dreams. About home.'

'Would you make one for us?' I pressed.

Chahar shook her head. 'I don't think my Master Elam would like that,' she said.

'He wouldn't mind,' I said, 'if in return we let you go.'

Chahar stared at me, hard. "What do you need it for? You're never going to get out of here.'

'Just the same,' I said. 'If you make one for us, I'll release you.'

I got another long, hard look. Chahar gobbled more food while she weighed my proposal. Finally: 'You promise?' she asked.

'I promise,' I lied.

So she had us fetch some sticks and whatever shells and small rocks and yarn we could find. It took her about an hour. Her fingers moved swiftly for such a lazy, obese creature, but the primitive map that formed seemed well made - although I had never seen such a thing before, but had only heard traders' tales of the extremely accurate maps that savages made.

When it was done, she handed it to me. As I held it, she pointed out its main features. 'We're sort of here,' she said, indicating a shell near the top of the chart. 'I'm not exactly sure, but that's the way the current was going when they put us on the boat.' Her finger traced a blue strand of yarn woven through the stick frame.

She showed us important islands, but said the people who lived there didn't take kindly to strangers. And finally, she indicated a whole scatter of large islands near the bottom.

'That's Konya,' she said. 'Lots of people live there. It's so far, only a few of my people have ever visited, and that was a long time ago. They said there were hundreds of big islands, all crowded with people. And they had all kinds of wonderful things, and never got hungry, because their wizards are the most powerful in the whole world. They have a king, and big buildings instead of huts, with fireplaces that don't smoke: They've also got things they look at for hours, called books,

and ships that go almost every place.' She shrugged. 'I guess they don't come to visit us because we're all pretty stupid.'

Polillo smiled for the first time since the interrogation had begun. 'Civilization!' she said.

Chahar shook her head. 'No. I said it was Konya. Not ciliiz -whatever it was you called it.' She sneered at Polillo. 'You must be pretty stupid too.'

But Polillo only laughed. Gamelan was practically squirming with glee. Her chart was like finding the key to a fabled treasure house - except in this case the value of that treasure was our very lives.

Chahar was looking at us, suddenly alarmed. 'I did what you told me,' she said, indicating the stick chart. 'Now, it's your turn. You really are going to let me go when my Master Elam comes, aren't you?'

'Absolutely,' I said as heartily as possible. 'I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise.'

Gamelan rapped his stick to catch my attention. 'I think you and I should have a little chat about that very thing, Captain Antero,' he said. 'Privately, if you please.'

I left Polillo to guard her, whispering stern instructions about not harming the bitch, and led Gamelan from the tent.

When we were out of earshot he said: 'I hope you intend to keep that promise.

I was startled. 'By all the gods swear is holy, why would I ever do such a thing? She's trading fodder. The only thing we've got that the demon wants.'

'Oh, I don't oppose some bargaining. Obviously, you don't expect him to keep his side of it. But a bit of bargaining for appearances sake might be wise so he doesn't become suspicious that we're giving her up too easily.'

"Wizard,' I said, 'I sense a plan budding in that white-fringed noggin of yours.'

Gamelan's teeth shone through his beard. 'Not a plan,' he scoffed, 'but an outright plot.'

'Tell me more, my wise friend,' I said.

He did. It was brilliant, it was simple, and it was evil. In short, it contained all the key ingredients that go into the best of plots. The magic required took only a few stale sweetmeats I scrounged from the bottom of Corais's seabag - she has a weakness for such things that she does her best to control. I freshened them with a potion any market crone could make and chanted a few words I will not repeat. Murder is easy enough as it is. We returned to the tent and made casual conversation. When I presented the sweetmeats to Chahar she purely blubbered with joy. And yes, the wordplay was intended.

By the time the sun reached its highest point she was growing sleepy. A few minutes later, the demon returned.

Gerasa was the first to see him. I'd set her to watch with half a dozen of our best archers in case Elam tried a surprise attack. When her warning came, at first I all I could see was what appeared to be a large wave rolling under the thick kelp. It was moving at great speed and coming straight for us. About ten yards out, it stopped abruptly. A hole gaped and a thick black column of smoke boiled out. We all braced, not knowing what to expect. The smoke whirled, hurling off hot sparks. Gradually the smoke formed and we saw Elam. He was twice as big as when I'd first seen him. His eyes were pools of fury and his tail lashed angrily. Knowing he wouldn't have come alone, much less so close, if he hadn't have cast protective spells, I whispered to Gerasa and the others to hold their fire.

As calmly as I could, I approached the ship's rail and addressed him. 'Good-day, Lord Elam,' I said. 'We are all deeply honoured you've graced us with your presence.'

He ignored my pleasantries. 'Where she be?' he hissed, and his breath was so foul that even from that distance I nearly gagged.

'I expect you mean the good Chahar,' I answered. 'And she's quite well, as you will shortly see for yourself.'

I motioned and Polillo fetched Chahar from the tent. She was yawning and rubbing her eyes, but soon as she saw Elam she cried out in joy and waddled to my side.

'You've come for me, Master,' she said. She began to weep in relief.

'As you can see,' I told Elam, 'she's quite well. And although she's had a lovely time with us, the poor dear is tired from all the excitement and is anxious to return home.'

One of the demon's taloned hands shot out. 'Give to me,' he roared. 'Give to me, or I kill you all.'

I shook my head, as if my feelings were injured. 'Why all this talk of killing, Lord Elam? We've only had her to supper.'

I patted Chahar's head. 'We treated you well, did we not?' I asked.

Still weeping, she nodded. 'They didn't hurt me,' she called to Elam. 'And they promised to let me go.'

I gripped her shoulder tight enough to make her wince. 'In a moment, dear one,' I said. 'First, your Master and I must talk.'

I looked back up at Elam. 'You can have her,' I said. 'But first you'll have to free us from this place.'

The demon laughed. At least I think it was a laugh. It sounded more like a pack of baying direwolves. 'No,' he said. 'You give. I not kill. Let you be slaves. I need slaves. Too many die in fire.'

I shook my head. 'Much as we'd like to have a nice long visit with you,' I said, 'it's quite impossible to stay longer. I'm afraid you'll have to make some sort of concession, or ...'

I grabbed Chahar's hair, unsheathed my knife and placed it against her throat. 'Your fat little Favourite will be the one who dies this day.'

Chahar screamed. 'Don't let her hurt me, Master! Please!'

Instead of becoming angry, the demon adopted my pose of a trader trying to be reasonable against a tough bargainer. His talons brushed away a non-existent speck on his scaled chest.

'Why I let you go? She only slave.'

'Perhaps so,' I answered. 'But we've have a little chat with Chahar and we know all about you now. You don't belong in this world, and you need the magic in her blood, or someone like her, to live.'

I gave him my most pitying look. ^‘Why, you're probably growing weaker already. If we wait long enough, maybe we won't need to trade.'

The demon's frighteningly wide shoulders shrugged. 'I find other,' he said. His flat nostrils flared and he began to sniff. Ghostly fingers seemed to move over my body. I repressed a shudder, but only smiled wider to show he didn't affect me. His lipless mouth parted to show fanged amusement.

'You have witch's blood,' he said. 'Maybe I wait. Let you kill Chahar. Then you be Elam's Favourite.'

'Are you sure you have time?' I asked. 'Before you lose your powers, I mean? We have much food and water. And all of us are warriors. More than a match for your puny slaves. I wonder ... who can wait the longest?'

Elam's tail lashed in renewed anger. 'Give me Chahar,' he roared. 'Give me! I want!' 'And you'll let us go if I do?' I asked.

His eyes squinted craftily. 'Yes,' he said. 'You let Chahar go. Then I free you. Is trade?'

I put on a worried frown and pretended I was thinking this over. Finally, I said. 'You swear that if I free her now, you'll keep your end of the bargain?'

Again the demon bayed laughter. 'Elam swears. Let Chahar go now, yes?'

I pretended to hesitate, then - with seeming reluctance -I pushed Chahar forward. 'You're free to go,' I said.

Chahar squealed in delight, and with a grace that seemed odd in all that blubber, she went over the side into the water. Strong strokes took her swiftly to the bank and Elam scooped her up and put her on his shoulder. She hugged his neck and pounded her fat heels against him in joy.

'We've done our part,' I called to him. 'Now it's your turn.'

If his laughter was like a pack of direwolves before, now it seemed like a thousand of them had gathered to feast. I acted as if I were stunned.

'You are going to let us go, aren't you?' I said, my voice all a-tremble.

'I lie to you, little fool,' he brayed. 'Now I make you slave. Or, maybe kill. Not decide yet.'

He turned and started striding away. 'I leave, now. Make magic with Chahar. Be too strong for you. Then I come back.'

I railed at his retreating form, hurling curses for his betrayal. Soon as he disappeared, I stopped. As I turned, a large smile of pleasure pasted on my face, I saw Polillo looking at me in awe.

'If you'd been a merchant instead of a soldier,' she said, 'you'd be richer than your brother.'

I laughed, protesting I was an amateur compared to Amalric. But her words pleased me. Not that I'd want such a thing - remembering, of course, that no woman would be allowed to join the ranks of merchants in Orissa. I liked being a soldier. It was nice, however, to think that maybe Amalric wasn't the only crafty bargainer in our family.

'What do we do now?' Stryker asked.

'Signal the admiral to make ready,' I answered. 'If the gods remain with us, we'll sail within the hour.' Shaking his head in open disbelief, Stryker left to do my bidding.

Gamelan tapped up to my side. 'That was well done, Rali,' he said. 'I'll make a wizard of you yet.'

His words soured any satisfaction I felt I wanted to snarl at him, tell him once this voyage was over, I'd never lift a conjuring finger again. But he looked so proud to be my mentor that I bit my tongue and patted him instead.

As I searched for a kind response, a shriek of awful pain shattered the air. I whirled to see the demon stumbling from behind the charred remains of his ship. He gave another shriek, doubling over as the poison burned his guts. Then he struggled up and charged towards us, his long legs eating up the distance. Behind him I saw his remaining slaves pour out of hiding and run after him.

I barked orders as he came. My troops unsheathed their weapons and nocked their bows in readiness. I could see Elam gathering all of his strength, shooting up in size as he neared us. He was rattling his talons and gnashing his teeth. He stopped at the bank's edge.

'You lie to me!' he screamed.

‘Why, Lord Elam,' I replied, most mildly, 'how can you say such a thing?'

'You kill Chahar,' he gritted out, as another wave of pain took him.

'And I'm very sorry about that,' I said. 'But it was necessary to poison her, so I could poison you. Now, what can I do for you, My Lord? I'm a busy woman.'

His men were massed behind him now - waiting for his orders to attack. He raised himself up to his full height to scream our death warrants. Then pain gripped him and he fell to his knees. His slaves moaned in fear.

'I see you are in some discomfort, My Lord,' I said. 'Perhaps I can assist you ... if you free us, that is. And this time, if you want to live, you'll have to keep your side of the bargain.'

The demon shuddered and nodded his head. 'Yes. Elam agrees.'

I motioned for Polillo to hand me a leather flask Gamelan and I had prepared. I uncorked it, took out my knife and nicked my arm. I let the blood drip into the flask, mixing with the elixir. I recorked it and handed it back to Polillo.

'If you'll do the honours, Lieutenant,' I said.

Polillo hurled the flask across the distance. It fell in front of the kneeling demon. He struggled up, opened the flask and sniffed the contents suspiciously.

'How I know you not lie?' he asked.

'You don't,' I said. 'But let me tell you this. That potion will not only cure you, but it binds us both to our solemn oaths. Cheat us, and you will die most painfully in a few hours. Honour your word, and you will live to go about your filthy business. To be perfectly frank, if I had my choice, I'd let you die. And then I'd skin you and hang your hide on a tavern wall so all could mock you when I told the tale of the demon Elam and all the evil that he'd done. But I have no choice. For me and my companions to live, you must live as well. It's to be regretted. But there's nothing else I can do. So drink, My Lord. Drink deep and thank the foul gods you worship that they did not permit the woman who defeated you to do worse.'

Elam glowered at me, then another wave of pain racked his body. Hastily, he drank.

'Quickly, now,' I urged him. 'If you do not act this instant, the potion will not work.'

He hesitated for a long moment, turning his head as if he were about to unleash his slaves. They leaned towards him, moaning for the pleasure of the anticipated kill. Instead, he whirled back, raised up to his fullest height and opened his mouth. Air rushed in with such force that it sounded like all the ghosts of all time were crying out for release. Then he blew.

A great foul wind washed over us, our ship heeling over from the force. It was so strong many were hurled to the deck. The wind roared through us, hammering over the fleet and across the rolling kelp plain. Then it stopped as abruptly as it began. The hot moist air turned chill and I saw huge black clouds scudding across the sky. Stryker barely had time to shout orders, when a new gale swooped in from above. The seas burst up above the kelp and we were surging forward, sails cracking in the wind. The banks of kelp were ripped away, and the floating beds pushed aside, and a wide, straight passage yawned, a path to the open seas beyond. I heard faint cheers echo over the wind as the rest of the fleet saw what was happening.

I pulled myself to the rail and looked back. I saw Elam's black form standing where we had left him. We were moving swiftly and his figure got smaller and smaller as the distance grew.

Just before he vanished altogether he gave a great shout that boomed over the howling winds: 'Did you lie, Antero? Did you lie?'

Then we were on the open seas again, freed from our strange prison. And that was the last I saw of him, thanks be to the gods.

What was that, Scribe? You want to know if I told the demon the truth? Was my potion really a cure? I'm hurt. How could you doubt me? Very well. I'll say only this. If you should ever sail beyond the fiery reefs, and find yourself becalmed in some seaweed... don't speak my name to the gods there when you pray to raise a breeze.

The magical gale soon died, but was replaced by brisk, natural winds that raised our spirits and our hopes. Even Cholla Yi and Phocas seemed cheerful when we gathered to examine Chahar's stick chart, which Phocas declared to be accurate, at least as far as the features he'd marked before we came upon Elam's lair. We agreed to sail for the distant kingdom of Konya and throw ourselves on the mercy of the civilized people Chahar had assured us dwelt there.

'They're sure to have detailed charts of these seas,' Cholla Yi said. 'With their help, all we need to do is to add it to our knowledge and we'll soon be sailing home.'

I had some doubts of my own - Chahar was too stupid to dissemble, but was she also stupid in her estimation of the kindly Konyans? But what other course did we have? I shrugged off the worry and joined the celebration. The wine flowed quite freely that night.

We sailed for many weeks, our confidence in the stick chart growing as more landmarks were sighted. One day I arose in spirits that were brighter than any time before or since. I bounded up on the deck, full of cheer and good will to all. I found Polillo exercising, heaving an immense cask of ballast about to stretch her muscles. When she saw me, she let it down. The deck groaned with its weight.

She drew in a long, joyous breath, swelling her bosom to such size the crewmen's eyes were popping from their heads.

'What a great day,' she exclaimed. 'I'm no wizard, Captain, but I have this feeling that something marvellous is about to happen to us.'

I laughed in agreement, then went to Gamelan for our daily ritual of casting the bones. He was as cheery as I, combing his beard and teasing me about what a great wizard I was going to make when he was done. For a change, I took no offence. We got out the bones and I threw them. Gamelan chortled over the pattern I described, saying nothing but the best was in store for us. To me, the bones looked no different on any other day, but I thought I must be wrong.

An hour later I returned to the deck and strolled along the rail, enjoying the sun and fresh air. Then the lookout shouted 'land', and I craned to see what lay ahead across the dancing seas.

I saw a pale, blue mist, edged with a dark line below. The mist lifted, and my heart leaped as I saw the most glorious island. It was deep emerald and beckoned us with sweet promises and even sweeter dreams.

Twelve

The Sarzana

As we closed on the island our happiness grew, almost as if we were returning home. There wasn't any reason for it, but after the past few weeks of gloom and disaster, all of us welcomed that peacefulness. The sea mirrored our feelings - the waves near-calm, a warm, gentle early morning breeze off the land ruffling the placid waters, the sails and our hair. I found myself smiling inadvertently at Stryker, as if he were an acceptable excuse for a human, then grinned more broadly at my sappiness.

My women and even some of the sailors, who I thought would've seen everything, lined the railings. A curious seal broke water ahead of our prow, then dove and swam past underwater - so close to the surface we could see the muscles rippling beneath her smooth brown hide.

'It might not be bad,' Corais said dreamily, 'if the fools who believe in rebirth happened to be right. I wouldn't mind returning as a seal.'

I thought of saying something sarcastic, such as it'd be best to be reborn in waters that seal hunters hadn't found yet, but thought better. Corais seldom relaxed as much as she had on this day.

For the first time since his blinding, Gamelan also looked content. I chanced ruining the moment and asked if he could sense anything that might portend danger from the approaching land. He smiled and just shook his head, no.

The island looked like a curled hand, with fingered headlands enclosing the bay, and in the centre the land rose to a plateau. I guessed the island to be about ten miles long by six wide. Everything was green, so green it hurt the eyes. I thought I spied a bit of white atop the plateau, but when I searched again, I decided my eyes had deceived.

The water shallowed as we entered the bay and the ocean became a crystal blue like the finest diamond. One Guardswoman pointed, and I saw first a dolphin, then its mate, below our keel. They were swimming about thirty feet apart, and it looked as if they had something clenched in their jaws. I thought I saw glints from their foreheads, a reflection such as that which would come from a prince's diadem. Ahead of them I saw the flash of a school of silvery fish trying to escape their fate as the dolphins' midday meal. Then our ship passed over them and our wake obscured the scene.

I heard a shout from across the waters. It was Cholla Yi, calling for the fleet to assemble on him. Oddly, he gave his orders without an obscenity or a curse. The day must've worked its charms on him as well. Within minutes, our ramshackle ships gathered, sails lowered, each rocking gently in the low waves. I could see long strands of weed and barnacles along the waterline and below. Shrouds were frayed and the ships' sides stained; the planking battered, splintering. I took a moment to pray this new island would fulfil its promise of peace. We desperately needed not only supplies and water, but to beach and careen our ships for repair.

Cholla Yi's orders were brief - take arrow formation, half the ships as the point of the arrow, the others in line to the rear. No ship was to anchor or land without orders from the flagship. Then something most unusual occurred - he called to me, asking if I had any comments or additions. Perhaps the mutiny and its aftermath had made even a man as stubborn as he was realize there was no room for conflict among ourselves. I had only one suggestion - perhaps one galley should remain outside the bay for a few hours, close to the headlands, to make sure no hostile ships were lying in wait to bottle us in this beautiful trap. Cholla Yi grinned broadly and bellowed, 'A good idea. This one will be a sailor yet. Captain Meduduth ... you're the watchman. We'll try to save any wenches or wine we find for you.'

My section sergeants had already ordered the Guard into armour and the rowers outed oars and crept into the great lagoon. At first it appeared we were the first people to encounter this paradise - which was not improbable, considering how isolated it was in these uncharted seas.

Klisura told Stryker the bay would make a perfect base for a war fleet. Stryker's lips twisted into a grin and he said, 'Aye, but for the small problem that yer'd have to sail for two small forevers before yer came upon anythin' worth thievin'.'

A few minutes later one of the lookouts posted in the chains shouted and we hurried to the rails.⁴ 'ears some admiral shared yer view,' Stryker said.

Across the centre of the bay were buoys, studded at measured intervals. Those buoys would have been meant for mooring in even rows, rather than to chance chaos and damage by haphazard anchoring. I counted ... ten, twenty, perhaps more. A fleet, indeed, could have harboured here. Our ship closed on them and there was no sound, except the whisper of the wind and the splashing of the oar blades as they lifted and feathered. The buoys were large wooden barrels, each connected to a cable that ran down to a greater one laid across the ocean floor. The buoys had not been in place long - the cable anchoring them was spotted with rust, but not yet covered with sea growth. It was strange, though, to see gaps in the line where buoys had broken away or sunk, with no one making repairs. It looked as if whoever laid out this anchoring had sailed away just after completing the task.

We rounded a point and saw what we all knew had to be there. White stone buildings climbed up from the water on cobbled streets, to end at a high stone wall laid against a mountain face rearing up towards the plateau.

'Naval port,' Klisura said, and I asked how he could tell.

'Merchant ships need docks, or a mole at any rate, to unload cargo. Warships lie out to harbour when they anchor. Makes 'em feel safer and they can get underway faster. But if it weren't for those buoys, I'd call this port a fishing village.' I knew what he meant. There was no sign of either defensive fortifications or war machines along the waterfront.

That feeling of content lessened as I realized I heard nothing coming across the water from the town. There were no cries of hawkers or children, no creaking of wagon wheels, no bawling noises from draught animals. All was still, all was silent. I saw no signs of life whatsoever. There was but one boat in the harbour, a small smack that lay half-submerged along the single dock.

'Captain Stryker,' I ordered. 'Signal the other ships to heave to where they lie. The admiral will remain in command. We'll send an armed landing party ashore first.'

After our earlier experiences, Stryker didn't argue. I ordered Polillo to assemble a landing party - two boats, fifteen women.

I wasn't surprised, soldiers being what they are, fearing boredom far more than the most grisly death, to see all my best milling in an excited knot; and there were twice as many Guardswomen as I needed, including Polillo, Corais, Ismet and Aspirant Dica, who I suspected was going to become a fire breather like the worst of us. They- and the others - were looking at me like so many puppies, eyes pleading not to be left aboard.

I muttered a curse at always having to be the villain, but also found an inward smile - command may be a lonely task, but at least the commander has some sway in being able to choose who leads an expedition. I left both Polillo and Corais and put Sergeant Ismet as my second, taking Dica with me.

We clambered into the boats, encumbered with battle gear and the sailors rowed towards the beach. No one came to greet us, no one came to warn us off. One of the oarsmen muttered, 'It's like some wizard whisked 'em up into the skies. A phantom village.' Sergeant Ismet glowered him to silence.

The sound of the boats' keels scraping on the sand was loud. We jumped overside hastily, not intending to present any lush target if there was an ambush. The thigh-deep water was warm and inviting, as was the sand stretching up to a cobbled esplanade that ran along the front of the village. There were fishing-nets hung from racks, but they'd been hanging for some time, I noted. The beach sand was blown smooth and showed no footsteps, its only markings those of birds and where water animals had beached themselves to sun.

I sent Sergeant Ismet and seven women to scout the eastern stretch of the waterfront and I patrolled down the western section. Again we heard nothing but the cry of gulls and saw nothing except the occasional rat scuttling across the cobbles. There was a scattering of roof tiles in the streets, blown off by storms. Winter storms, I wondered? We were now in spring, so the village might have been abandoned some time ago.

The village appeared unremarkable, except for its inhabitants' disappearance. I chanced entering one small shop, sword ready. It was just what one would expect in a fishing village, a bit of a chandlery, a bit of a grocery. There was a faint, disagreeable smell I traced to some long-spoiled bait in a wooden bucket. There were still items on the shelves, but not many. I guessed the shop would have been barely making money for its owner, who probably had another job, either farming somewhere behind the village or working the fishing boats. That made me wonder where the boats themselves had gone to. Had all the inhabitants sailed off, fearing some doom that never came?

I went into the back of the shop, where the owner had his living quarters - and the peacefulness was gone. There'd been a great struggle here. Blood, dried to black, spattered the bed, its blankets, the floor and walls. Someone had died here, fighting desperately before they did. I looked out the back door, which hung ajar, but saw nothing. I shivered, then retraced my steps through the shop to where my patrol waited. This was more than strange. But what made it eerie, was that I didn't feel any sense of danger. Although I was seeing that all this was most unusual, there didn't seem to be any special reason to keep my sword ready, my eyes darting from side to side. I forced wariness on myself - looking here and there for any threat. But nothing happened and we continued on.

We checked the rest of the waterfront without learning anything more. We trotted back to the boats, where Sergeant Ismet waited. Her end of the village was equally desolate and she, too, had found evidence of a fight. Yet there were no bodies, no bones. Whoever had attacked this village had either taken the corpses with them, or, singularly neat butchers, had performed funeral services after the massacre. I thought it might be seaborne slavers - but slavers never destroy a village utterly. Rather, they take the young, the comely, and the talented and leave the rest to breed another generation to harvest. But what did I know about customs in these far lands?

I sent Sergeant Ismet out to the ship to report and to give my orders to Captain Stryker and to Cholla Yi. There appeared to be no immediate danger, so the ships could be brought in to anchor, although a fighting watch should be kept until I ordered differently. As an added precaution, I wanted another galley to join Captain Meduduth, out beyond the headland. I ordered the Guard to land in full strength. We would explore and secure the island. I told Sergeant Ismet I also thought it'd be safe for the ships to send watering parties ashore - there was a small creek with sweet water just at the west end of the village - although the parties should not skylark about, and be accompanied by armed men.

Within the hour, my Guard was ashore. Cholla Yi's marines could provide safety along the waterfront and we did not plan to venture far inland, for fear of an ambush from the sea. The village was no more than a few blocks deep. For the moment we would ignore whatever lay on the plateau and the rest of the island. If we found no reason for alarm, Cholla Yi could send work parties inland to cut and shape trees for keel blocks and warp his ships, two at a time, close inshore and wait for the tide to strand them. Then work could begin on cleaning, caulking and retarring the bottoms, while my Guardswomen, with great relief, could become hunters to resupply our victuals.

Then Gamelan, who'd come ashore without my noticing, came up with his two Guardswomen to ask if he could come with us. I thought several things, but said none of them.

'Perhaps,' he explained, 'I might still have a small bit of my power left and could at least offer a warning of any magical danger.'

I couldn't see any reason to deny him. We had no intention of racing through the village and if we were attacked ... well, Gamelan had said enough times that he hated the idea of being thought an anchor to the expedition.

We moved into the village, weapons ready. I was in the front and once again I kept Dica beside me. Corais was just behind me and Polillo and Flag Sergeant Ismet commanded the rear. We passed shops, homes, all the things that made up a prosperous village. I entered several homes, trying to figure out how much warning the people would've had. Contrary to what I knew our barracks' tales would say later, when and if we returned to Orissa, there were no meals left unfinished on tables or tasks abandoned in mid-stroke.

There was one exception - the main taproom of a large tavern was the remnants of chaos itself. There were wineskins ripped asunder, bottles and casks shattered, goblets scattered across the floor and tables overturned. Here also were several large bloodstains. I estimated that at least six, perhaps ten, drinkers had been surprised and slain in their cups. Remembering the shambles of the bedroom I'd been in earlier, I thought death came in the night, without warning. We moved on, ready for anything. But again, there was no sense of danger. It was as if we were exploring ruins of a civilization that died in our mothers' mothers' time.

One of the flankers doubled back to report a large building ahead, just on the outskirts against the mountain face. She thought it might be a barracks, the first sign of a military presence beyond the anchorage. We moved towards it.

It almost certainly was a barracks - a long two-storey structure, with regular buildings and, outside, a guardshack. For the first time I felt a whisper of danger, or of something untoward. 'Sergeant Ismet up!'

In a moment she was beside me. I wanted her at my side and chose six others, all exceptional swordswomen, to accompany us inside. I sent Polillo with the rear element around the side. I put archers out as a screen, with orders to guard in all directions.

We entered the building and found a charnel hell. It had been a barracks, sheltering at least two hundred soldiers. I knew because the building was filled with their bodies. Even my hardened soldiery was taken aback -I heard one or two gasps of horror and muttered curses.

The ghastly scene reminded me of something, and before I could close my mind, the memory came: once, when very young, I'd been in one of my father's barns, playing with three half-grown kittens. They'd found a nest of field mice that had moved into what they thought was a sanctuary of unbaled hay. The kittens, so friendly and lovable a moment before, hewed true to their duties and with a great yowling and shrieking, slaughtered the entire nest before any of the mice could flee. Not content with killing them, they played with the dead and dying. Some they devoured, some they merely mutilated. Just as someone ... or something ... had done to these soldiers. Some had been asleep, some awake and on duty. It didn't matter. I saw shattered javelins, broken swords, fine plate armour that lay burst like potsherds.

Time had passed since that murderous night, but the horror was not lessened. Some of the bodies had rotted to skeletons, but others had dried and mummified, brown lips pulled back over yellowed teeth in horrid mirth. Not one body, though, was whole. Perhaps scavengers or rodents had fed, or carried the bones away for their own usage. Perhaps.

It was just then I heard the music. Flute music. It came from outside. Without orders, we ran out of the barracks, towards the sound.

It came from beyond the barracks, where a large semi-circular wall reared. I started to rush towards it, then caught myself. I motioned and my Guardswomen spread into a hedgehog semi-circle, and advanced. We rounded the end of the wall, and stopped in our tracks. The wall became a high stone balustrade. A matching wall curved towards us on the other side. In the centre, stone steps had been carved, a colossal staircase up the side of the plateau. On either side of the stairs luxuriant vines grew down, their flowers rich with a rainbow of colours.

The music came from the base of those stairs. It came, indeed, from a flute. The flute was being played by a strange creature. He was certainly not a man, for not even the barbarians of the icy south are that hairy, or so I've been told. Nor was he an ape, at least not from any species I've ever seen in the wild or a menagerie. Its face was neither ape- nor man-like. The best I could compare it to was that of a lion, with great fangs, but without whiskers. Around his neck he wore a ribbon with a small jewel on it.

The creature looked at us with calm interest, showing no fear whatsoever and its flute-playing never stopped, a melody that sang of birds over a stormy sea, birds wheeling in search of a home the winds had driven them from, a home they could never hope to find again.

I caught my breath, realizing what the flute had been made from. It was a human femur that had been lovingly pierced and polished. I saw a blur from the corner of my eye. It was Gerasa, my best archer, bringing her bow up, right hand drawing smoothly until the broadhead just touched the arrow rest.

'Stop,' I snapped, and such was the discipline I'd worked into my women that the shaft never flew. But neither was the bow lowered. 'We aren't starting a war here. We don't know who those soldiers were, nor why they were killed. Let alone whether our friend was the killer.'

Gerasa's eyes flicked to the side at me, and I could tell her thoughts: No trooper should be slaughtered in such a manner, nor his or her memory mocked by an ape. But she lowered her bow.

Gamelan was beside me, his two guides just behind. Since the musician showed no sign of tiring, I briefly told him what we were looking at - and what I'd seen in the barracks not far away. Gamelan was silent for a long moment. His head turned back and forth, sweeping the wide base of the staircase as if he were sighted or, better yet, a hunting hound keen on the scent. A smile came and went on his lips.

'I do not know how to describe this. My powers are not returning,' he said, and I could see he was forcing calmness. 'There is something here. It is ... it is like when you have had your eyes shut in absolute dark for a long time and then your thoughts claim you are seeing something. I can sense sorcery all about us ... Good or ill, I do not know. But it is something we must meet and face.'

The creature's fluting broke off as if it were waiting for those words. It sprang to the railing of the stairs, took hold of a vine, swarmed up and was gone.

I listened within myself, to see if I sensed anything. There was something here, I realized - just as Gamelan had said. It was stirring, I felt as if I were a minnow near the surface of a pond and a great pike was moving below me in the mud and the reeds. Yet still, I felt no menace, no threat.

'We climb those stairs,' I decided. I sent a runner and escort back to the beach to inform Cholla Yi of our intent. We started up, keeping six steps between us so if archers or spearmen lay in wait, they could find no target more inviting than a single woman. The steps were carved perfectly out of the rock, as if masons by the multitude had all eternity for their task. We reached a landing and turned - the steps becoming a tunnel into the cliff itself, windows cleverly carved to appear like faultlines to anyone below. The stone walls were also carved with bas-reliefs. They told a story, a story of bloody battles and strange cities on even stranger islands. I tried to follow the story, just as one studies a tapestry, but could make no sense of it. The carvings grew more elaborate, and stranger and more violent - and I took my eyes away.

We reached a second landing and now the stairs were in the open once more, going straight into the rock wall's face. There was blue sky overhead and the rock stretched high above us on either side.

I stopped and looked back to check the progress of my Guard. The climb was winding some of us and I swore under my breath, realizing again how much a voyage saps one's strength, no matter how many callisthenics you do, or how many times you're chased around a deck by a leather-lunged training sergeant. Gamelan passed me. His escorts were panting a little, but the old Evocator was tapping along with the speed of a man a third his age. I hurried back to the head of the column and we continued up.

'I think I liked it better,' Polillo said, from where she climbed not far behind me, 'when we were in that damn tunnel with some overhead cover. That clifftop would sure be suggesting things to somebody who doesn't think I'd make a boon drinking companion... and who had a rock or six handy.'

I fell in beside her and we climbed on in silence, trying not to count the steps and then we were at the top and in the open.

The plateau was one great meadow. Low rolling hillocks carried the eye from side to side. There were groves of trees set here and there among them and I could see the blue of ponds and creeks. But this wasn't any natural paradise - in the middle of this plateau sat a great villa, with outbuildings scattered around. It was marble, and must have been that flash of white I saw while yet outside the island's bay. The building itself was multiple-storeyed. There were two polyhedron domes at the building's centre, connected by an enclosed archway. This was an estate as grand as the finest Antero horse farm-and more.

I saw movement coming from the house. My Guardswomen deployed out into a vee-formation at the head, of the stairs, archers on the flanks, spearwomen guarding them, and swordswomen in the centre.

The movement became a horse with rider. But the sight became more fabulous the closer it got. The horse was no common domestic, but a black-and-white-striped zebra, such I had seen but once when a ship laden with exotic animals bound for a king's court had docked in Orissa. Riding bareback on it was yet another of the beast-men. This one was even more grotesque than the musician, because it wore red knee breeches and a green jacket. The zebra stopped without command and its rider slid off.

The creature looked around curiously, then came directly to me. Then I saw it, too, wore a jewel hung around its neck. The beast-man bowed, took an ivory tablet from inside its jacket and handed it to me. There was but one word on the tablet:

Welcome.

I jolted when I saw the greeting was written in Orissan.

The beast-man did not wait for a response, but vaulted back onto the zebra. Again without command, the animal galloped away, but not towards the great villa, but to a large barn I saw in the distance.

I told Gamelan what the tablet contained and asked if his feelings had grown any stronger.

'No,' he said. 'All I know is that we must go on.'

And so we did. I put my soldiery out in extended formation, with strong skirmishers on the flanks and we marched towards the villa. It was even larger than I'd thought and not nearly as close. In fact, it was almost two miles away. As we came close, I could make out gardens, a maze to one side, fishponds and other lavish outworks. But I saw not one of the vast company of gardeners that'd be necessary to keep these grounds so perfect.

There was a curving drive, wide enough for half a dozen formal carriages, paved with broken white oyster shell. Our boots crunched as we walked towards the villa's entrance - double doors thirty feet high and set in the centre of a colonnaded terrace.

I brought my troops to a halt and without any orders, they automatically formed up in column, as if awaiting inspection by a great prince, never fearing an attack.

After a moment, the doors opened and a man walked out.

'I greet you, and welcome you to Tristan,' he said in Orissan, and his voice sang like a great gong, as welcoming as spiced cider on a winter's night. 'I am The Sarzana and I have waited long for your coming.'

A day has passed since I dismissed the Scribe, telling him I wasn't angered, but needed time to reflect on what words I would choose before continuing my story. I needed the time not because I was afraid to say what happened. We all err and the only sin is committing the same stupidity twice.

It was rather that when you first meet someone great, someone who rocks the earth in his passage, memory has been known to shake a false ivory. Certainly The Sarzana must be considered great, for that word describes both good and evil. I do not want my knowledge of what came later to colour what I saw and felt there on that island, seeing this man for the first time. But now my words are ready.

The Sarzana might have been taken for a merchant prince. He was richly dressed in a wide-sleeved tunic that came close about his neck. He wore pantaloons whose legs flared as fully as his sleeves. Both garments were purple and he appeared born to that imperial colour. I guessed them to be made of heavy silk. He wore a belt of twisted thongs, turquoise in shade. I saw the glossy toes of ebony boots peeping from under his pantaloons.

The Sarzana was a bit under medium height and was full-bodied. It didn't appear as if he'd missed many meals, but neither did he appear to be a piggish feeder like Cholla Yi. He was clean-shaven and his cheeks were powdered. His pomaded hair hung in waves to just above his shoulders and looked to have had the attention of an artist with the curling iron minutes before he stepped out to greet us. His face was roundish, marked by very dark eyebrows and a straight moustache. If you passed him on an Orissan street, you might have thought him a visiting magnate, no more. A man of dignity and wealth.

At that moment I looked into his eyes. I swear this is not my jade of a memory adding something I didn't notice at the time. His eyes were a deep well of expression. They were dark - I can't say whether they were the deepest of greens, blues or blacks now - and they shone with the memory of power. The best I can compare them to is those of a caged eagle, who sits in the mews remembering how his talons ripped all that came before him; or perhaps the glow that comes to my goshawk's yellow eyes when she's unhooded and sees the woodcock in the field.

No. Even on a busy street, in a rich district, The Sarzana would not be casually dismissed - not once you saw those eyes.

The Sarzana stopped when he came off the last step and bowed.

'You are safe,' he said, and I knew absolutely that he spoke the truth. 'You may summon the ships you have on guard beyond the headlands to enter the harbour and anchor, and may allow as many as you wish of your sailors to come ashore. There is no harm here. I do not expect you to take me at my word. I sense there are two among you who have the Talent. One has been badly hurt, I can feel... 'and I could sense Gamelan stirring from where he stood just behind me, '... the other is young, still feeling her way to power.'

I removed my helmet and bowed. 'I greet you in the name of Orissa,' I said, but made no response to his statement about sorcerers. 'I see you have the powers of magic and are what we call an Evocator. Can you sense aught of our history?'

'Some,' he said. 'And what I cannot, I am sure you will tell me. But we need not go into that now. I know you are not long from a great voyage and a greater battle, and since your victory, which nearly brought you down, you have been harried and sore-struck. But now you are safe. You may remain here as long as you wish and refit. What tools and equipment you find, you are welcome to use as you wish. You may find housing below in the village, or up here, on the plateau. There are more than enough barracks to accommodate regiments far greater than your own.

'The fresh water, the grains that grow wild, the fruits of the trees are yours for the taking. You may hunt, you may fish where you will. I ask only that you hunt no creatures who walk upright. Nor should you take any creatures who wear my sign, a jewel set in their forehead or on a band around their neck. They are my servants and my friends and I have sworn to let them come to no harm. This I must insist on, and anyone who breaks that law will be punished and the manner of his punishment shall be most dire.' Now all of us could see that sheen of authority in his eyes.

I broke the hold he had on us. 'We come in peace, and none of us are fools or children. We hold to the laws of the country we visit,' and I allowed a bit of steel into my voice, ^lso long as we are honoured as guests. If that agreement is broken...' I did not finish my sentence, nor need to.

'Good,' The Sarzana said. 'I have already sent one of my ... servants down to welcome the rest of your party, and to invite the officers of the ships, particularly the one you call Cholla Yi, to my villa. Captain Antero, you may, if you choose, allow your soldiers to break ranks and relax. There will be an opportunity to refresh yourselves before we dine.'

I thought a moment. It would have been absurd to have listened to his honeyed words, but once more I felt nothing but calm and welcome. I looked at Gamelan, and he wore a slight smile, lifted his face as if to the warm afternoon sun.

'Thank you, Sarzana,' I said. 'We thank you deeply for welcoming us to your kingdom.'

The Sarzana's expression changed, darkened. 'Kingdom?' he said, and his voice, too, altered. It was as if a sudden storm cloud had rolled across the clear sky. 'I who once ruled lands that stretched so wide no man could see them all in a lifetime? This is not my kingdom.

'This is my doom, Captain. This is my exile. This is where I was sent to die!'

By mid-afternoon all of our ships were moored in the harbour and most of the men ashore. The Sarzana said he'd have his minions clean out the death barracks in the village and our people could quarter there. Those of us who heard the offer shuddered collectively at spending even one night in that morgue. The Sarzana saw our response and said we were more than welcome to sleep up here on the plateau if we wished - his enemies had built more than enough rooms when they exiled him to this island.

Corais boldly chanced a question, and asked what had happened below.

The Sarzana smiled and his smile wasn't humorous. He said we'd learn in time, but that was near the end of his tale, and he preferred to tell it later. Unless, he added, the legate was worried that somehow what happened to those scoundrels bore on her fate? Even though his words were a taste harsh, no one took offence. Corais shrugged and said it was his island. All of us were still feeling that odd contentment, as if our troubles had come to an end.

The Sarzana's offer was generous, but neither Cholla Yi nor I wanted to be that far from our ships. Also, it would've taken too long for the working parties to go up and down that staircase and as long as our ships were near-derelicts, we felt naked, unprotected.

We decided a small party of my Guardswomen, headed by Corais, would be quartered on the plateau, more to keep an eye on The Sarzana than anything else. The rest of us would use the abandoned houses along the waterfront and cleaning them would be our first task. Two taprooms would be used for Cholla Yi's and my headquarters. The tavern I'd chosen also had good-sized rooms above-stairs, so these became quarters for Polillo, Aspirant Dica and myself. I'd determined to make her a legate if she survived our next battle and to blazes with the official policy of not making promotions without a higher officer - which meant a man - approving. The long voyage had given me time to think about many things I'd taken for granted in Orissa and there would be changes when we got back.

The Sarzana informed us he'd planned a feast to celebrate our arrival. We accepted, but told him some of my Guardswomen and a small watch aboard each ship would be unable to attend. They would mess off ship's rations. Tomorrow, if none of us fell ill from the food we'd eaten, they could have their own feast. This was common practice when dealing with foreign lords for whom poison might be an ordinary tool of state.

The Sarzana frowned when I told him we wouldn't all be able to take advantage of his hospitality and I said, perhaps a little sharply, that we, too, had our customs. He smiled, not taking offence and I felt whatever bit of suspicion I might have felt melt m his warmth. He said custom was a most good thing and that one of his own personal beliefs was the commoner was as deserving of a banquet for his or her deeds as any lord. It had been his way, he said, from the very beginning, that nobility and peasants should sit intermingled.

'If nothing else,' he said, his smile becoming jovial, but never touching his eyes, 'I've found the man or woman of the soil or sea has far more interesting things to say than the latest court prattlings.'

I was most impressed, as were my women. This was the way we ate and lived in battle, but in barracks even the Maranon Guard had separate messes for sergeants, officers and privates. I made a note to think about this way of The Sarzana's. Perhaps when we returned home, this would be another idea worth introducing to the cob-webbed customs of the army, at least for the Guard. Only Cholla Yi and some of his officers appeared to resent the planned seating arrangement, but none of them said anything within my hearing.

We toileted in shifts and did our best to smarten up to our best full dress. But it was pretty pathetic. Our dress tunics were salt-spotted and our armour had discoloured, in spite of constant polishing. Our brass had a beautiful greenish tint that took much cursing and many ashes to remove. We whitened our leather as best we could, although it needed more than oiling and blanco -1 hoped we could find time to cut and tan new hides before we sailed on. Our beautiful plumed helms had not taken the passage well and looked like seabirds who'd been tumbled about in a winter's gale. Only our weapons gleamed with never a stain.

We ourselves were so many harridans. Polillo took one look in a pier-glass set between the two windows that looked out onto the harbour, and moaned. 'This isn't hair, this is a dustmop,' she said, waving a handful of her brown locks at me.

I tried to be polite, but she was right. We'd combed and washed and, when we could, oiled. But the sea and salt air had laughed at our efforts. Somehow, it hadn't seemed important aboard ship, when we all looked equally good or bad and who gave a damn what any sailor thought. But now, with the promise of this banquet, even though there was no one to impress but The Sarzana and his half-men, we felt shamed.

But we did what we could with the time and materials we had. And from this came another tale my women would be telling as long as I led them and beyond.

The villagers of Tristan had evidently been cleanly sorts, because there were more than enough tubs, wooden or metal, for bathing. Two of Cholla Yi's sailors decided to amuse themselves by peeping on our pastime. One earned himself a broken arm courtesy of a hurled stave by Polillo, the other bruised or broken ribs from a blunt-headed arrow fired by Gerasa.

Those of us who preferred our limbs hairless stropped our razors or smallknives and shaved. I wondered, as I cut myself and swore, why no Evocator had ever provided a depilatory spell, until I realized men set great store by their own bodily hair and of course paid little heed to a woman's desires. I did remember having heard tales that some of Orissa's finer courtesans had their bodies completely ridden of hair below the neck and realized perhaps such a spell did exist and I'd never considered magic as being intended for daily use, until Gamelan began tutoring me.

And from there came my disaster. Just as I opened my small personal case and groaned, I heard other women complaining. The few cosmetic items we'd carried in our warbags had seen even worse treatment than our bodies. Our powders were caked, our oils were dried and thick, our creams were clotted, our rouges were cracked. This, and the way I'd been thinking a few minutes earlier, brought inspiration. I would save the day. I called for my sergeants and had them collect these dried up items, each marked as to its owner. I thought for a moment and set my own kit in front of the others. I collected a bit of clean rainwater from a nearby cistern, some sweet-smelling flowers from a bush, a bit of oil from the tavern's kitchen and finally a gaily coloured scarf that had been abandoned in a closet. I touched the scarf to each of my other ingredients and was ready.

All I needed was some species of goddess. I thought of Maranonia, but instantly put her aside. If she heard my prayer, she was as likely to turn me into a warthog for bothering her with something so trivial as face powder as grant my wishes.

I tried to remember another god, but unfortunately, being a true and sceptical Orissan, I grew up paying little attention to any gods except my own hearth god, Maranonia, the gods of the city, and any other beings it might have been politic to pray to in a public place. Having a god or godlet for each and every function - why, that was for superstitious peasants and outlanders. I asked if anyone knew of a goddess who might help us and there was a long moment of silence.

Finally Polillo brightened and said that when she was but a mite of a youth, she remembered a friend of hers. 'She was like a young deer,' Polillo mooned, 'but she preferred only men, the hairier the better, so she had no time for me. But I remember she used to pray to ... to some goddess named ... let me think ... I have it! Helthoth. No, Heloth. Yes, that's it. I'm sure of it.'

By this time about half my Guardswomen had gathered around and I knew I had better pull this one off most handily.

So I began my spell:

As you were

So shall you be

Listen Heloth

And grant my plea.

Turn back Turn back

Turn back again

Now you are

What you were.

As I chanted, I touched my scarf to each of the cases, willing the properties of the oil, the flower, the sweet water, to rejuvenate our powders. I thought I saw a bit of a flicker and looked down at my own case. It looked as if it were brand new, and the nicks and scratches from a hundred hundred campaigns in my warbag were gone.

I'm afraid I got a little over-excited, this being my first real spell from intent to end. In fact, I yelped, 'I did it!'

Corais was the first to pick up her case and open it, even before I opened mine. She gaped ... and then she started laughing, laughing like a vixen in the spring watching her kits play. I had just time to realize something had gone very wrong and then my fingers fumbled my own case open. My spell had worked very well. In fact, it had worked too well. My cosmetics had grown young - inside the case was a disgusting mess of ingredients: almonds, before they'd been crushed for their oil, rose petals, metallic powder, butter, olive oil, and all the rest of the things skilled chemists ground and mashed to make unguents from.

As the laughter grew into hoots, I glumly knew it would be a very long time before the Guard forgot the tale of 'How Captain Antero Turned Back Time'.

Before we assembled and went back up those stairs to the plateau to meet The Sarzana, I drew Gamelan aside and asked him if he sensed any magic being constructed against us. He said he did not.

'But I can tell you one thing for certain, which you will have realized already. This Sarzana is a mighty sorcerer, as mighty, I can feel even though stripped of my powers, as any I have heard of or encountered. Further, I sense that he held power in a temporal sense.'

'Like the Archons?' I said.

Gamelan thought for a while. 'In a way. It is hard to describe exactly, but with a difference. The Archons learned magic and with that magic seized the throne, true to the tradition of the rulers of Lycanth. This man is different. I feel that this Sarzana, and I wish I knew what that word meant, whether name or title, seized wand and sceptre at the same time - and used one to give the other greater strength and then return the favour before he fell.'

'I wonder what brought him down?' I said.

'All my senses tell me he was a great ruler, which from what I have heard of his palace is obvious. My senses also say he ruled wisely if firmly. So I wonder why he was overthrown. How and why?'

'Perhaps he'll tell us,' I said.

'Perhaps he shall. Before he lets us know what he wants; Because no ruler, no matter how godlike, no matter how long since he lost or gave up his throne, is ever content with his lot. All we can do, though, is let the wind carry us, just as we have had to do since we fought the Archon.'

'And do you sense any sign of him?'

'No,' Gamelan said. 'At least that's a relief. Not since ... since I woke blind but still feeling his presence. I have almost managed to convince myself that was a hallucination.'

'Almost,' I said. 'I wish you were certain.'

Gamelan's lips quirked, but he didn't answer me. Instead, he took me by the arm. 'Young Rali, we have a banquet to attend. Sit close beside me, to make sure I don't put my fish on the meat plate. You can be my eyes.'

'I'm sure,' I said, my tone very dry, 'you want me to be your eyes just for etiquette's sake.' 'Why Captain,' he said archly, 'what other reason could there be?'

We laughed, and then I shouted for my troops. It was time for the banquet.

The meal was maybe not the oddest I've ever eaten, but it was well up on the list. The dining-room was a wide marble hall, hung with tapestries showing deeds as heroic and grotesque as those on the bas-reliefs on the passages leading up to the plateau. There was room and to spare for all of us - in fact, die entire expedition as we set out in pursuit of the Archon could have fitted comfortably into the great chamber. The dining-room was as splendid as any I'd ever seen, as rich as the great Banquet Room in the Citadel of the Magistrates, back in Orissa. The chamber was brightly but not harshly lit, yet no one could see any sign of taper or torch. Similarly, there was music playing, but there was no orchestra in view, nor curtained anteroom where one might have been hidden, at least not that I could see.

As The Sarzana promised, we were seated sailor next to officer, slinger next to legate, and, indeed, the conversation was more interesting than most court banquets I'd been forced to attend in Orissa. This was a custom worth adopting.

I've just noticed my Scribe frowning, wondering why I said the banquet was so strange, yet haven't given him any reasons for saying that. I could remind him of our circumstances, how but a day earlier we'd been storm-tossed waifs on deadly seas, or how this man, sitting at die head of the table between Gamelan and myself, with Cholla Yi and Stryker on the other side, seemed to be the only human living on this island. But such knowledge wasn't necessary to make the night bizarre.

The servitors accomplished that all by themselves. All of them were the beast-men like the flutist or the rider who'd presented The Sarzana's welcome. They were dressed even more oddly than the rider, however. They wore various costumes, all expensive, some in jewelled women's gowns, some in rich robes such as a magistrate might wear, others in gold-laid armour that a general might envy.

The Sarzana noted my interest. 'This is my conceit,' he explained. 'Or, rather, one of them. Each of my servants is dressed like a member of my court. So I am surrounded by the same lords and ladies I was in the past. Except,' and his light tone grew bitter, 'I do not have to await betrayal, as I did in another palace, in another time.'

I nodded, realizing that, like any storyteller, The Sarzana was preparing the way for his tale, and I wondered when he would choose to tell it.

In spite of their clumsy regalia, the beast-men were most efficient, never allowing a plate to remain in front of a diner when he or she was finished, nor a goblet to be empty for longer than it took to be refilled from a golden pitcher.

I remember each course of that meal very well, each accompanied by a different, perfectly chosen wine. We began with various dishes intended to whet our appetites: richly seasoned liver pastes on bits of bread; shellfish raw in their shells or baked with bits of pork or vegetable; spiced vegetables. Next were ortolans, baked in a wine jelly, each one but an instant, vanishing mouthful. Then there was salmon, a great fish to every few diners, served smoking hot, the grill marking its flesh, and a dill and butter sauce to complement it for those who wished more seasoning. For myself, a dash of fresh lemon was enough. Then came a wild mushroom soup, with as many varieties of mushrooms in each cup as I have ever seen, each having its own unique savour, as if cooked alone.

The main course came next - great haunches of a game animal, served with a jelly of tart crab-apples and berries, and larded with salt pork. I asked The Sarzana what the animal was, and he told me a species of single-homed antelope that lived on the north of the island. 'A huntsman's challenge,' he said, 'since they never congregate in herds, but live solitary lives. I know nothing about how or when they mate.'

'You yourself hunt?' Polillo asked, from her seat down the table.

'I do not,' The Sarzana said. 'I would find myself puffing and panting, looking like a portly fool who's trying to become an imbecile, dashing through the woods chasing something he'd just as soon first meet on a platter at dinner. My servants hunt for me. Hunt and fish.'

'We saw no sign of boats,' Polillo said. 'Do your... servants hunt from the shore?'

The Sarzana smiled. 'These ...' and he gestured around at the beast-men, '... are not the only ones who've chosen to serve me. There are dolphins... seals... hawks... others who have chosen to serve me.'

I suddenly remembered the two dolphins, swimming abreast, under our ship as we approached the island. Was that a net I'd seen them hold in their mouth and the emblem a diadem such as the beast-men wore?

'Chosen?' Gamelan said, gently.

'I admit,' The Sarzana said, 'to having prepared the ground with a spell or two. But what of that? These creatures live far better lives than they did before. Then they hunted and were hunted, lives no longer than an instant. If they sickened, or if storms tossed them, they were helpless. Now, in exchange for performing small favours for me, most of which, such as fishing, were already part of their bestial habits, their lives are happier and gentler.'

I wondered if any beast, taken from the wild, is happier, but said nothing. This was an argument I'd heard from zookeepers as well. Gamelan, too, had no comment.

The meal continued. Almost everyone was on his or her best behaviour. All of my Guardswomen had been cautioned to remain sober and I noticed none of them, not even Cliges, my most notorious drunkard, did more than sip at their wines. Three or four of the sailors, however, being sailors, decided to seize the moment. One of them got so rapidly in his cups I heard the beginnings of a song coming from that table. The Sarzana appeared not to notice, nor did his casual, clever dinner conversation change. But I saw him glance at the budding drunkards and as soon as he did, they became quiet.

One of my women said later the sailors did, indeed, grow instantly sober, but shuddered and shook, as if they underwent the throes of a seconds-long hangover before they did. It was obvious The Sarzana controlled his dining with more than courtesy.

Our meal finished with various tarts - fruits, berries and such, accompanied by an assortment of cheeses such as I'd never tasted.

Just as I finished, there came a babble. My Guardswomen and die sailors were getting up, and, most politely, taking their leave, just as if we were at the end of a barracks meal, and the last of the wine had been drunk. Outside, I heard the shouts of the sergeants forming them up. Before I could do more than gape, I heard them marching away, across the plateau.

The only ones remaining in that vast chamber were Cholla Yi, Gamelan, Corais and myself. I felt alarmed for a moment, then noted, just in the entranceway, Sergeant Bodilon, whom I'd assigned with Corais to stay up here with The Sarzana. On either side of the doorway were two guards, each with her spear butt braced beside her, looking most alert.

The Sarzana looked at me. 'Captain Antero. Forgive me for overstepping my bounds. But I rather assumed your women would be happier returning to their quarters. They've had a most long day, as have your sailors, Admiral Yi.'

For some reason, neither of us objected, nor were we alarmed by The Sarzana's magic. That warm, rich feeling that had marked the day sat about our shoulders, like a welcome wool cloak on a winter's night.

'Now,' he went on, 'if we can adjourn to another room, we can continue our conversation. I know almost everything about you. I know you, and your homelands. I know of your pursuit of your great enemy, and his destruction. I know the perils you have overcome crossing these seas. And I know what lies ahead ... But you know nothing of me.'

He smiled. 'Now, that shall change ... Now I shall tell you my story, of how I came to be The Sarzana and of the evil that brought me and the great civilization of Konya down.'

Thirteen

The Ruler of Konya

The sarzana turned and walked away through the banquet hall. He gave no command nor invitation, but the four of us knew we were to follow. Corais took Gamelan by the elbow, and we threaded our way through the tables. The beast-men were busily cleaning up, and paid us no attention.

We walked down a long hallway that reminded me of a museum -there must've been a hundred items, from paintings to sculpture to colourful costumes on the wall, each coming from a different culture.

We went through an archway into a circular room with a round fireplace in the centre. In spite of the evening's balm, a fire blazed, but I felt no unpleasant warmth coming from it. Comfortable couches sat around the fire, and there were small tables near each couch set with glasses and bottles.

'I used a small bit of divination to determine what each of your favourite tipples is,' The Sarzana said, trying to assume the casual gaiety of his earlier conversations. 'I trust you will forgive my intrusion.'

We seated ourselves, and I recognized the flask in front of me - it appeared to be an exact duplicate of Talya, the sweet dessert wine the Antero estates has produced for some generations only for their most honoured guests. We made it from grapes allowed to shrivel on the vine, then picked at the height of their ripeness, each grape taken from its stem and placed into a vat, and the grapes crushed by their own weight. For an instant I forgot where I was, and my eyes blurred, remembering what was so far away, and, I was beginning to fear, unattainable. The last time I'd had this wine had been years ago, when the harvest had been plentiful enough to justify the making of Talya, since it was incredibly wasteful. I'd shared the flask with Tries in the days when there was nothing but silken love between us.

I turned my face away so The Sarzana wouldn't see tears touch my face. Cholla Yi harrumphed, and said something gruffly about how pleased he was Lord Sarzana could produce the finest drink of his homeland, a distilled concoction of cherry pips it seemed not many had the palate to appreciate.

'Not Lord,' The Sarzana said, 'if you please. My tide, to all Konyans, needs no further embellishment.'

I nodded to myself. One of Gamelan's questions had been answered. I used the tip of my dagger to peel the wax sealant off, pulled the cork, poured a bit of the wine and tasted. I hid a smile. The Sarzana's magic wasn't quite perfect - there was a hidden tartness to this vintage our own grapes never held. But I had to admit the effect had been startling, and the wine's taste was quite pleasant.

'This room,' The Sarzana said, 'I use as a reminder of what once was. Look about you.' Two of us turned, but I did not, keeping my eyes fixed on The Sarzana's hands, as Gamelan had taught me to do when watching a sorcerer - right crossed over left, turned palm up, and fingers beckoning. I had the gesture, but thought it would give me nothing, since I saw his lips move in the incantation, but I couldn't make out the words he spoke. Then I turned to see.

The spectacle he'd evoked took me. We were in the midst of the sacking of a great palace. The walls were hung with tapestries, roaring in flames. I saw beautiful women, screaming and being dragged off by drunken men. I saw looters carrying away finery, or tearing or shattering it for the sheer love of destruction. I saw soldiers in armour: some sprawled in death, having fulfilled their last duty; others had turned their coats, and become looters. I saw men, and women too, dressed in the finery of the ruling class, ordering the mob in its destruction. Then there was nothing but marble walls, the marble worked with threads of exotic minerals.

'That was the day of my downfall,' The Sarzana said. 'That was the day I lost everything. And that was also the day my beloved Konya lost its last chance of greatness, freedom and peace.' I saw his lips tighten as he fought for and regained control. 'I keep this memory fresh,' he continued, 'because I do not want to soften, here in my long exile.'

'Perhaps,' Gamelan said in his low but commanding voice, 'you should begin by telling us what you ruled.'

The Sarzana's lips curved. 'Thank you, Lord Gamelan. I shall. I am not accustomed to tale-telling, and I forget that not all the world knows of Konya and its once greatness.'

He sat down at a couch, and poured a goblet of what appeared to be water from a clear pitcher.

'My kingdom,' he said, 'is far to the south of us and if you will forgive me for waxing poetic, I think of it as jewels spilled across the seas, since it is composed of many thousands of beautiful islands -whose centre is Isolde, the most lovely gem of all. It is from here that the kingdom has been ruled since time began. The islands have every climate imaginable, from desert to coral atolls to high glacial mountains in their reaches to the furthest south, which remain unexplored. Isolde itself is about three weeks' sail under strong winds.'

'So many islands,' Cholla Yi asked, 'are they all peopled?'

'Most of them,' The Sarzana said. 'And this is the great tragedy of Konya. It sometimes seems as if each island is its own nation, a nation entirely different from its nearest neighbour. Worse, each island is perpetually at war with the other.'

I saw Cholla Yi smile, and knew what he was thinking - if each man's hand is turned against his fellow, there are rich takings for a pirate.

'We Konyans,' The Sarzana went on, 'have only one thing in common: we are hot-blooded and fiery, quick to judge, love or hate. There's a proverb - "with a Konyan beside you, you shall lack neither friends nor enemies." I fear it is true.'

'A hard land to rule,' Corais said.

'It is ... was, indeed.'

'Were you born to the throne?' Cholla Yi asked.

'I was not. Like your Evocator, I was a fisherman.' I glanced quickly over at Gamelan, and saw him suppress a start. 'Perhaps,' The Sarzana continued, 'I misspoke. My family were less masters of the net and line than expert with our boats and, just as importantly, the marketplace. My family owned five smacks, and another ten families owed us fealty.'

'You outreach me,' Gamelan put in. 'We had but a single boat to fish the river, not the sea, and we owed money on that one to our village's lender.'

'Perhaps,' The Sarzana said, 'I would have been happier if that had been my position as well, for I never would've ended up here on this forsaken rock. But I'm probably being naive - a man is, I believe, born to the throne, no matter if he is birthed in a ditch. Ruling is a destiny, not a profession.'

Cholla Yi looked approving, and Gamelan frowned slighdy, but none of us interrupted.

'As I said, I was no different from a dozen other ship owners on my island, with but one exception: early on, my family recognized I had a talent for magic. On our island, unlike some other places, a witch or village wizard was respected, particularly if he had any of what we called the Weather Art. But what knowledge I gained was here and there. There was no formal schooling to be had that I was aware of, unlike what I have divined your home of Orissa to have. Perhaps, if there had been more money, or if my family was higher in the social order, although we had no aristocrats to speak of on the island, I might have been able to go to Isolde itself to perfect my art. But this wasn't to be. Perhaps it was for the best, when I think about what happened to many of the lords and ladies a few years later. I reached my young manhood not much different from any of the others in my class. I did everything in my family's trade, from fish-gutter to helmsman to harpooner to using my small Talent to feel where we might have the best luck casting our nets.

'The misfortune of our island was it lay in rich waters on a main trade route leading to Isolde itself. Rich waters with fish beyond count for the taking - but our seas were travelled by other sharks. Pirates, slavers, warships, even merchants who were nothing loath to waylay one of our boats if they were short of a hand or two. Everyone knew the men of the Island of the Shark were, they said, birthed with webbed feet and hands curved to fit an oar's handle.

'Every year five, ten, sometimes more islanders would vanish. Some would find their way back after a single voyage, others...' The Sarzana shrugged. 'I, myself, barely escaped being forced into servitude half a dozen times, either by weather-luck or being able to feign disease or feeble-mindedness when one of my boats was stopped. Of course, I never showed any sign to these raiders, that I might have a bit of the Talent, or I would have been a great prize.'

'Couldn't your government help?' Gamelan asked.

'Government?' The Sarzana sneered. 'Our rulers were far away and cared little what happened to us, except when they sent a tax ship to levy a toll. That was as great a burden, some thought, as any pirate.

Konya was ruled, or I should say misruled, by a single family and its septs, whose blood had gone thin over the centuries. No, we could look for nothing except harshness from those who thought themselves fit to wear a crown.'

'The gods gave man steel,' Corais said, 'so he would not have to suffer unjust kings for ever.'

The Sarzana looked at Corais strangely, then said, 'Perhaps that is the legend in your land, Legate. But not in mine. In Konya there is a belief that he who kills a king will die a million deaths, and his soul shall never be permitted peace, but be tormented by demons through all the worlds that exist for ever. But we have veered from the subject at hand, and what happened to my poor island that began all this.

'One day pirates surrounded ten boats in the middle of a great haul, and took all of our men off, sinking the boats in callous glee as they did. That day marked the end, and the beginning. All of us ship owners assembled, determined we must do something. That was the day the gods touched me, because I knew what we must do. Perhaps this was the first time my Gift really showed what it could become. We must fight back, I said, and fight back hard. We were becoming a joke, not men, not women, but eunuchs, and if we stood for this treatment, we deserved to be wiped out, our island to be a desolation and our women transported to port towns to whore for their bread. We might as well rename our island Jellyfish Isle, instead of calling ourselves after the ruler of the seas. Honey was given to my tongue, because all at once, my fellow villagers were shouting their approval, and hoisting me to their shoulders.'

The Sarzana stopped for a moment, then went on. 'That was the first time I heard cheering and my name being cried aloud, and it was very sweet.' I thought he was speaking to himself as much as to us.

'We formed a defence league. No longer did each fisherman flee his fellows to work a secret reef or hole. Now we sailed in groups of at least five boats, and would work common waters, always with one man in each boat keeping his eye on the horizon for a hostile sail. Each of our boats now had weaponry under the nets. At first it was little more than sharpened gaffs, tridents and gutting knives, but after the first raider made the mistake of attacking us, we had swords, spears and bows.' He smiled tightly at the memory. 'Very quickly, we learned to use them well, against others who were foolish enough to take on the men of our island. The word spread - the waters around the Island of the Shark were safe for all, except those who sought blood. Those pirates and raiders found the death they thought they were bringing to us.'

The Sarzana's eyes flashed. 'There were other islands who sent representatives to marvel at our accomplishments. To each of them we made the same offer - join us and have peace. It took little persuasion once they saw the benefits of cooperation.'

Cholla Yi appeared as excited at the story as The Sarzana was. 'And they chose you as their leader?'

'Of course,' The Sarzana said. 'Who else was there? Within a year, our entire archipelago was at peace. The islanders found my ideas and ways to be convenient, and so they asked me to rule them in their daily life, not just as a defender. We were able to choose certain men, our most valiant, and pay them to do nothing but stand guard. We regulated the markets so a fisherman could go to sea knowing he wouldn't return home with his holds full to find the prices so low he wouldn't even have paid for the twine to repair his nets or the scrap fish to bait his hooks. Disputes between villages could be handled by a travelling court, rather than settled with feuds as before. We made our own flag. In honour of where our movement began, we chose the shark ... Once again, we had peace. But not for long.'

'I don't think your rulers would have thought very much of this new kingdom in their midst,' I said.

'True. But that is not the way it happened, exactly. We found there is a worse despotism than an ageing, senile family. It is the people themselves. The old King died. And that gave the opportunity. There can be no regicide when no one has been crowned. On Konya, and on other islands, the populace rose spontaneously. Mobs formed and attacked the rulers' palaces. By the time word reached our islands, what government of old there had been had disappeared in a welter of blood and flame, and noble heads paraded through the streets atop pikes.'

The Sarzana shivered. 'Now came true terror. Let me tell you, gentle people, if you have never been unfortunate enough to know tyranny, you should know there is none worse than that wielded by the people. Let the slightest man or woman of ability, thought or genius rise up, and he will be cut down, just as the scythe first slashes the ripest grains of wheat that have grown above the rest. That is when I learned that if the first principle of monarchy is to rule with justice, the second is that those whom the gods meant to be governed must never be allowed to influence the sceptre.'

I glanced at Corais, keeping my face blank, and saw her own expression as closed as it was when she heard an order she knew to be wrong. But Cholla Yi was nodding, enthralled. I could tell nothing at all from Gamelan's expression.

The Sarzana continued: 'Once they'd overthrown the government, then they met in solemn enclave, what they called a People's Parliament.' He snorted disgust. 'Imagine all those shopkeeper's wives, bloody-handed soldiery, dirt-caked peasants and their like, milling about the palaces they'd sacked, each shouting he knew the best way to rule. Eventually, they settled on a form of government in which each man or woman was to be no better than the worst, and anyone who deemed himself better than the others was evil, a horrible reminder of the days of kings that were gone, never to return and that must be destroyed.

'What was worse,' he went on grimly, 'was these peasant-rulers had sycophants of the worst sort, yea-sayers who kept those poor fools from realizing their stupidity. Early on, when the people had first begun their revolt, the lowest class of the nobility, the barons, those who'd never done anything to help Konya except sit on their estates and exploit all who came near them, saw the straws in the wind, and cast their lot with the usurpers. These petty lordlings were held up by the rulers of Konya as proof positive they didn't desire to turn all mankind into a swarm of ants. So, of course, these noblemen and women danced constant attendance to their real rulers.

'I gather,' Gamelan said, 'that about this time your Shark Islands must have come into conflict with the Konyans.'

'Just so,' The Sarzana nodded excitedly. 'When they realized there was another way to live, a way in which each man freely paid the debt owed to his superior, and his better gave even more of himself... why, a great expedition had to be mounted to extirpate this heresy from Konya.

'Also,' The Sarzana went on, and this comment was the second that seemed inwardly intended, 'I have learned a ruler's task is easier if the masses always have an external enemy to arouse their anger.

'They sent out a great fleet, with orders to lay waste to our lands. Perhaps the old regime might have mounted an expedition successfully. But not this new rabble. It took them months to raise and half-train an army, find ships and educate their merchant captains to be naval officers, and then longer still to victual and outfit the men. All this took great time - time they no longer had. Because something had happened to me. One day, and if I were telling anything other than the raw truth it would have been a day of thundering and lightning, I... I understood. I do not know how else to put it. Gamelan?'

'I do know what you mean,' the Evocator said. 'It's not unknown for a particularly gifted sorcerer to suddenly be enlightened, and see the elements of his craft open before him.'

'Just so,' The Sarzana said excitedly. 'This part of my life I do not discuss with others, and it is a relief to find that I am not alone. Because once I held this power, I knew I must not confide in any magician who could become dangerous to me. I could feel my enemies - the enemies of my people - building their strength. But my own strength was growing fast. I felt at times the very spirit of my islanders, and those who'd chosen me as their ruler, giving me power.'

The Sarzana stopped and poured his glass full. He drained it, set it down, and smiled, his mind in the past.

'When their fleet arrived off the Island of the Shark, it was met with a great storm. A storm my powers had helped raise. There were two hundred or more ships that sailed to the islands. But the rocks and the tides and the winds took them and scattered them and sank them! When the winds died, and the sun came out once more, then we put out in our small ships against their great galleys with many-rowed oars. My men swarmed against their ships like barracuda striking a sunfish. And then it was over, and the men of the Island of the Shark held the day. Now we were the strongest force in all of the Konyan lands. We knew what we had to do. We could not discard the sword and return to our nets and our lands - the mob would try once more, never satisfied until they dragged us down.

'So we assembled our own battle fleet, but it didn't come just from our archipelago. There were others in Konya who loathed this new order, and saw it could bring nothing but doom to all mankind. There were nearly a thousand ships that assembled off Isolde. We expected a great battle - but there was none to be fought. The rabble had broken. Some fled, some recanted, some chose death by their own hand rather than see order return to the world.

'They carried me from the docks where my flagship had archored straight into the Palace of the Monarchs, where I was crowned by the trembling hand of one of the survivors of the great family that had once ruled. That was nearly thirty years ago.'

The Sarzana sat silent, his eyes hooded, recalling that long-ago triumph. None of us broke the silence.

Then, he said: 'At first, things went well. No one seemed displeased at seeing mob rule discarded. I punished as little as I could, wanting peace with no one having blood to revenge. I tried to rule mercifully, and that spawned my downfall.'

'How,' Corais wanted to know, 'can mercy ever be a base act?'

'Legate, that is hardly a question I'd expect of a warrior. Let me offer an example to clarify things. Would you fell an enemy, then turn your back on him if he still had a dagger at his belt⁵'

'Ah,' Corais said.

'Exactly. Some of those who'd sent that fleet out, or who conspired to murder the lords and ladies of the old regime I merely exiled to distant lands or even their own estates. Others, more culpable, I imprisoned for a fixed time. There were only a few who had to meet the most severe penalty. And what was the result? The exiles were able to plot beyond my eyes on their lands. Those I'd executed became martyrs. Those in prison wrote passionate documents to stir up another rebellion that were secretly passed from hand to hand.'

'But all this,' Cholla Yi put in cynically, 'is no more than any strong man must face who seizes power, although I quite agree with you when you said you were too merciful. In my own land, when a man takes the throne, his first act is to slay his brothers and uncles, so there can be none of his blood to rise against him.'

All this was too much for me. 'Sarzana. With all respect, my own city has gone through great changes in the past few years. But there is no hidden conspiracy against the new Magistrates or those Evocators who now speak for the people - at least not one I'm aware of.'

'I suspect, Captain, you come from a more phlegmatic race,' The Sarzana said. 'You remember, I said that we Konyans are hot-blooded and quick to any extreme? People such as we can be ruled in only one way - and that is firmly. Konyans will not cry out against their rulers unless they see the laws enforced without an even hand. But I had an additional problem, one that became the hub of the conspiracy.'

'The nobility you spoke of,' I guessed.

'Just so. At first, the barons could not sing my praises too loudly. But then, I found it necessary to examine their position, and realized they still held all too many of the unjust powers that had been the greatest evil of the old rulers, powers that went back for hundreds of years. Some collected rents on lands they'd never seen, others had entire islands or even the seas around them as their private fiefs. A slave was a slave, until the last generation, with no way to free himself.'

I flinched a little at that, since it was only recently that Orissa had righted that great wrong herself, a doing of my brother, Amalric.

'Even more, some of them held writs that enabled them to circumvent common law, and imprison or otherwise punish anyone who offended them, with no recourse whatsoever. Great areas of land were held by them, and rack-rents charged, when most Konyans had but a tiny parcel of land to raise their crops. Perhaps I should have moved more slowly. But raw injustice brings rage to my heart, and a sword to my hand. I announced all of those baronial privileges would be examined, and a fresh wind of change would blow across the land.

'That was the spark. It fell on dry tinder because the gods had turned away from Konya. We had had several seasons of great storms, and then hot dry winds sweeping across our fertile lands. The schools of fish that were once so common seemed to find other seas to live in, and there was starvation for the first time in memory. The spark grew into flame. Some of the outlying islands rose against me, and I found it necessary to send out soldiers to suppress the risings. Unfortunately, the captains I chose were brutal men, men who thought the most profound peace was that of the graveyard. My advisors kept the tales of these misdeeds from me, so I thought all was well with my people and my crown.

'Finally, the darkest of sorcery was used. Somehow my enemies tapped into a greater power than mine. I do not know where it came from - whether it was a natural force, some demon-lord, or imported full-blown from a dark world, or what. But all that I turned my hand to, trying as best I could, failed. A screen was drawn between me and the future. No longer did I have any sense of what the morrow would bring.

'Then the revolt came. Men and women rose up in blind rage and panic. The mob ruled Konya yet again. But this time, there were cunning hands behind it. The barons guided this senseless rage against the one who loved them best. And they brought me down, me and those around me, those I'd brought up from many parts of Konya, and given power to because of their talents and their love of their fellow Konyans. It was the greatest destruction our poor shattered lands have ever seen.' Again there was a long silence.

'They should have killed me,' The Sarzana said finally, 'but they were too cruel for that. In secrecy, they sentenced me to death. Even the barons knew most Konyans still held the truth within them, and would quickly remember I was their salvation, not downfall. They sentenced me to die, but in the delight and savouring of their cruelty, they said they would carry out the sentence at a time of their choosing.'

'What of that curse you mentioned?'

'I was secretly told the soldiers assigned to me had been promised a great counterspell would be laid over them when my death was ordered. Also, if many hands held the sword, there was no way the death-demons could determine who the actual assassin was. Besides, great amounts of gold and rich estates were promised. I have noticed rewards such as those make men forget about the distant gods and their threats,' The Sarzana said cynically.

'What did the people of this island, Tristan, think, when you were exiled here?' I wanted to know. 'And ... what happened to them?'

'At first,' he said, 'they didn't know what to think, since they'd been removed from the blood-bath on Isolde. They were pleased at all the new building that was required. Oddly enough, this palace was already half-built. It had been ordered by an eccentric lord, who retired from the world with great riches. But the mansion was but half-finished when he fell off a cliff, while shouting poetry to the gods in a drunken ecstasy. Since the barons who now ruled Konya had ordered my exile to be luxurious until the moment of death, there was a great deal of further gold spent here, in addition to completing this estate. Also, those great warships moored in the harbour kept off slavers or pirates.

'The villagers welcomed the soldiers at first. They had money, and new stories and songs, and the island women were tired of their old swains. That brought the first troubles. The garrison's officers should have stepped in, but they did not, most of them having already commenced their own tawdry affairs. I didn't know what to do, but knew I would not pace my cage, no matter how silken they made it, until they sent in the slaughterer with his maul.

'Fortunately, my Talent was returning. I sensed that whatever had blocked my sight was gone, where I knew not, although I was still handicapped by the long months without my powers.' Gamelan winced at this last. 'I needed allies. And constant use of my Art would restore it to its former strength.'

'The animals,' I said.

'Yes. Untouched by man's evil in their souls, but always and for ever man's victim. I cast general spells of benevolence. When the soldiers held one of their hunts, I sent a knowledge-spell with it, so all the creatures of the island knew what evil their enemy, man, was doing to them.'

'And the beast-men?'

'Those are mine own. Are not they fabulous creatures?'

'It takes a mighty spell to create life itself,' Gamelan said. 'There are those who call it a Dark Work.'

'When one is fighting for one's life, and for the lives of one's people, there is no place for moral judgments. Let those who write the history books make them, from the peaceful libraries the bloody-handed ruler has created. I hold no truck with those who constantly second-guess from some lofty position, what the man who is down in the arena must do in the blood and heat of the moment.'

I, too, felt about to argue the point, and then thought better of it. Why, in the name of whatever god ruled the mouth of fools, were we sitting debating morality in the middle of this man's realm, small though it was? It was hardly politic, nor did what this man had done in the past matter now. Perhaps he had ruled more harshly than I would have, if anyone were stupid enough to offer me a crown and I imbecile enough to accept it. But I felt, with every sense, The Sarzana had intended the best for the Konyans, and been betrayed unjustly. As that thought came, along with it came warmth, that I had just gained a great truth - those who wear the crown must not be judged with us commoners.

'These creatures,' The Sarzana said, 'who are better friends than any of the butter-tongued fools who danced attendance on me at court, came from many places. I used the... there is no word for it in Konyan nor Orissan nor any speech I know ... souls would be the approximation if they had been men, but they were but the spiritual presence of animals, killed at sea or on land. I gave them new flesh, and animated them, with powers and strengths they'd never known before. They know it, too, and their gratitude never ceases. One day, when or should I say if I can flee this island, I will set them free, and they will be the rulers of this land, ruling more mercifully than man ever could, keeping common cause with the other creatures on the land and sea.

'But again I've turned from my story. I could feel the moment coming when a ship would slip into harbour, carrying orders for my death. It seemed like the villagers also felt something, because when I was allowed to go down the great stone steps, I heard mutterings against the soldiers, and the fishermen went out of their way to show me small kindnesses. It touched me to my depths, as it has always touched me when those who are under the iron boot do what they can to preserve their humanity. And it reminded me of my own village, so many miles and years gone.

'One day, a courier did arrive. I braced for the moment of death, but nothing happened. Life seemed to continue as before, except now I was forbidden to visit the village. One night, I was roughly seized, and held in a locked chamber under this mansion, guarded by a full squad of soldiers. This was the end, I thought. But the sun rose the next day, and I yet lived, and I was set free. Now I could go wherever I wished on the island - because the villagers were gone!'

'How?' That was Corais.

'At nightfall, the soldiers commanded them to collect at the waterfront. They were ordered into their boats, taking nothing with them. Their crowded boats were taken under tow by warships. This I discovered from discreet questioning of the soldiers. It took divination to learn the rest. The boats were towed well out to sea, out of sight of land. The soldiers had been ordered there must be no witnesses to my coming death, and they gladly obeyed this order, feeling perhaps the doom that pursues king-slayers might be fooled. The villagers' boats were rammed by warships, and the poor floundering men, women and children let drown or made sport of by archers and spearmen. Not one soul was allowed to survive.

'I knew then my life's cord was measured in fingerspans. I was desperate. I thought long, and then realized blood is a lever in magic, a great weapon. The villagers - I thought of them as my villagers -would not have died in vain. I cast the first of my great spells. It swept in that night, like a sudden winter storm. The soldiers knew nothing, felt nothing. But my animals, my friends and servitors, felt the weight of all the generations they'd been prey to men. And that compact with the gods that frights animals when they see man was broken. They were given free rein to revenge themselves.

'They did just that, in one long night of gore. I must say, I listened to the screams with satisfaction. My spell required my beasts to show no more mercy to the soldiers than they gave the fishermen. Some died easily, in their sleep, some fought back and were butchered, some tried to flee to the ships and were drowned by the seals or my dolphins. By dawn, I was the only human on Tristan.

'I ordered the bodies brought to the end of the plateau, beyond this mansion, and tossed over the cliff, to be carried away by the strong currents. Then, and it was a savage chore, my servants and I went from ship to ship in the harbour, cutting free the moorings, setting full sail so the ship sped out beyond the headlands, to sail and sail with no hand at the helm through desolate seas until the sea grasses and monsters took it down into the depths. Then the next ship, and the next, until the outer harbour was as bare as the inner one had been after the villagers were killed.'

The Sarzana stopped. None of us said anything. This tale of blood and murder was as ghastly as any I'd ever heard. Indeed, the Konyans were a hard race, from rulers to ruled.

Then he said: 'I left the barracks and the corpses inside alone, deliberately, as a warning to anyone who arrived intending harm.'

'That doesn't seem like much,' Cholla Yi said. 'You must've known the barons would send more assassins.'

'I knew they would, and they did. But they ran into my second great spell. This is one of confusion. It's a simple one, correct, Evocator?'

'It is,' Gamelan said. 'But to conceal an entire island requires great power.'

'Oh, I hardly went to that amount of trouble,' The Sarzana said, a note of pride in his voice. 'All that was needed was a slight miasma at four or five days' distance from the island. Enough for a navigator to doubt his charts or astrolabe, a captain to have suspicions about his underlings, and so forth. That was enough to guarantee I'd never be found unless I wanted. Besides, why would anyone want that hard to discover what happened? That tale of doom for anyone who murdered me lingers on, and who would chance the wrath of the gods if they did not have to?'

The Sarzana rose, stretched, and went from couch to couch, ceremoniously refilling our glasses. None of us had drunk heavily, so taken were we by his saga.

'It is late,' he said. 'Or, it is early, and you have much to do to make your ships seaworthy. Perhaps we should find our beds.'

We stood and lifted our drinks in a strange sort of toast. We then started out of the room. I stopped. A thought had taken me, and I had the boldness to ask: 'Sarzana? You said you could see a bit into the future. What, then, lies ahead for you? Will you spend the rest of your days here alone?'

'Prognostication comes hard when one is trying to use it for one's own good,' he said. 'So it is with me. I know what I think I see, but perhaps it is just a wish: I see myself returning to Konya. I know that if I land anywhere the people will remember me. Time enough has passed, and the barons' evil has grown, so there would be a great and final rising. Perhaps I'm foolish, and just a dreamer, but I still hope that my native islands will find true peace again, a peace that shall linger until time itself has a stop. And I know how to bring this to them. But, as I said, perhaps it is just an illusion, a happy mirage.'

'Why didn't you use one of the ships, crewed by your animal friends to return to Konya?' asked Corais, ever the practical one. 'You said you came from a seafaring family.'

'I said the power that blurred my powers is gone, but there still seems to be some remnant, or perhaps I'm still ensorcelled by a conjuration laid on me when I was first dethroned. I can't think of sailing without my mind falling into confusion. A mental version of the common fumble-finger spell, I suspect. No. I must be saved from my exile by someone else, someone who is willing to trust my words and believe he shall be rewarded gready when I return to power.'

Corais went to her quarters in the mansion, and the three of us went down the steps. There was a soft moon out, and we could see clearly. I waited until Cholla Yi had gone on to where the sailors of his gig drowsed on the beach, then asked Gamelan what he felt.

'He is a king,' the Evocator said. 'And kings don't have the same views I do. I think he intends well, that he truly wishes the best for his people. I didn't sense any waves of hatred for them, which he might well have felt after they overthrew him. I also perceived, behind his words, a truth that these barons are more savage than The Sarzana or even those bloody-handed captains he spoke of. But these are only feelings, with no facts or magic behind them. If my powers would return, even a bit of them, I would know better. What did you perceive?'

'No more than you did,' I said. 'In fact, less. There was nothing about the barons that came to me. But, yes, The Sarzana does appear to intend benevolence.' I smiled. 'If it's possible any king is of that nature.'

Gamelan chuckled and turned to face the small cottage I'd assigned to him. He walked towards it as if sighted, and I marvelled how quickly we can learn to overcome frailty if we are strong enough. At the door, he turned back.

'It was ... interesting,' he said, 'to speak to another Evocator, one with Talent nearly equal to mine. Or, rather, what mine were. Meaning no disrespect to your own Talent, Rali. But it felt, when he referred to our common art, almost as if I were back at the palace in Orissa, sharing trade secrets with another.' He sighed. 'It seems to me,' he said, 'what we must do is ride with the current, much as we have done. Perhaps The Sarzana can give us aid to set our course home. He « a great sorcerer. Perhaps he might choose to help us, although it's easy to tell what debt we would be incurring. Certainly he hinted strongly enough at the end of his tale. And just possibly the reward would be worth the price.'

Then he said goodnight and went inside.

It was only an hour or so before dawn when we parted. I thought that if I tried to sleep, in all likelihood I'd just toss and turn, thinking of The Sarzana's tale, and a single hour's nap would do no more than turn me into a growling lioness at my duties. Besides, it was better I walk off the dying fumes of the evening's wine.

I walked to the waterfront and along the beach. I returned the salute of two sentries, but didn't bother them with idle chat. The night was as calm and mild as a summer's evening. I waded into the blood-warm water and kicked at the surf, seeing it spray in the moonlight, which made me giggle as if I were still a child. That feeling of happiness that had come upon me off the island still hung on. All I could wish for was ... and I shut off the thought before it could complete.

I went all the way down to where the creek mouth entered the water and saw one of the ship's boats landed there. I thought I'd sit down on a thwart and wait for the sun to come up. But the romantic spot was taken. Dica and Ismet lay asleep on a cloak, naked in each other's arms. The sight made me feel glad and sad at the same time.

I heard footsteps and turned. It was Polillo, evidently taking, as was her frequent custom, the last watch before dawn.

We looked at each other and the two women sleeping in the sand. Neither of us said anything, but I knew what she remembered and thought.

I bent and pulled the cloak up over the two. A small smile touched Dica's lips, but she didn't stir. Then I walked away back down the beach. Alone!

Fourteen

South To Konya

The next day we set to. By the gods, it was wearisome. By the time we were done and our galleys rode at anchor looking as if they'd just been launched with the blood of the sacrifices fresh on their prows, any of us who'd dreamed of buying a small boat to play with in our twilight years had discarded the notion. Amalric always had little use for ships, except as a necessary way to move his goods from one port to the next, but my feelings became stronger: I wished I could become the Greatest of Evocators, and pave the damned seas so no one save those who were demented, and I include all sailors in that lot, would need water for any purpose other than bathing.

It might seem I'm railing on, and I suppose I am. But let me tell you just what we had to do to make just one galley seaworthy once more.

First the ship would be stripped of anything removable, so it rode high in the water, and then it was rowed close inshore, until it grounded on a rock-free bottom. Then it would be dragged further into shore and when the tide fell, heavy logs, padded at the end, kept the ship from rolling onto its side.

Next we started scraping the hull free of the barnacles and seaweed. In the process we scraped enough skin off our hides to make belts for an army. Then all those shellfish we scraped off died and began to rot. By midday our brave warship smelled like a dockside latrine. This task, I'd been told by Klisura, required no shipwright's ability beyond having a large neck and small helmet, so the Guard would be perfectly suitable. I growled, then saw he was attempting a joke, and regained my good humour. That lasted until I realized I'd have to set the proper example for my women and be the first to wade out and begin scouring away.

'I thought,' Sergeant Ismet said, from where she laboured a few yards away, 'we were going to be noble huntresses and all that, instead of scullery wenches to these tubs.'

'Pleasure,' I managed, 'comes after business.'

It wasn't that we were being taken advantage of - Cholla Yi had Klisura and the other shipmasters were driving the sailors even harder. Nor were we doing the worst job conceivable, which came after the ship's bottom was sufficiently clean. This job was for the fleet's various petty offenders, both the handful from my Guards-women who needed more severe punishment than a boot or backhand from her sergeant or a week jakes-cleaning, and the much greater number of sailors who'd fallen afoul of their masters-at-arms. All rotten ropes had been stripped off the ships and tossed in a great pile on the foreshore, and the punishment parties were assigned to pick the tarry ropes apart, strand by strand. These threads were then driven into the space between the ship's planking, using a tool like a narrow chisel and a mallet. Since this served to reseal any leaks, even the laziest sailor worked with a will on this task, but to make sure, a particularly vicious master-at-arms with a knotted rope-end paced back and forth behind the workers. He was forbidden, however, to strike any of my women.

Polillo had explained it to him simply: 'Only the Guard touches the Guard.' The brute considered Polillo's muscles, looked into her icy eyes, and nodded understanding.

Once the hull was caulked, it was painted. The paint was a reeking mixture of tar, oil and some vegetable poisons from the island. The poison would hopefully help keep new barnacles and weed from clamping onto our hull for a while. Each one that did would slow the ship and make it more unwieldy to row and steer; plus it'd eventually eat through the planking. While all this was being done outside the ship, more was being done above us. All rotted wood was replaced -we were lucky and found a yard full of seasoned timber we could use. This included already-shaped tree trunks that replaced masts that had split or had rot in their core. The decking and timbers were oiled. We found enough rope in and around the village to replace our old rigging.

Also, the holds and cabins had to be fumigated. In an Orissan yard, I was told, an apprentice or journeyman Evocator would have cast a spell on the ship, so that all the rats, roaches and other vermin would have been blighted. But we had no such recourse, at least not at first. I determined, after a sailor nearly died from breathing the fumes from his sulphured torches, something must be done. With Gamelan's help we produced a spell that worked very well, thank you. It consisted of rat's blood, the remains of a few ship insects, the blossoms of a night-flower whose scent carried many yards, clay from the village's burying-ground and a few simple words in ancient Orissan. Soon the galleys were relatively pest-free.

Everything on the ship was carefully checked, replaced if possible or strengthened if not. Finally, the refit would be complete, and on the high tide the braces would be struck away, and the ship dragged back into deeper water, its anchors having been rowed out and all hands pushing handsomely on the capstan.

That was one ship. Then another was beached - and the task begun anew.

It was exhausting - but there were still some of us who had energy for other things, some for good, some not. I noted Dica spent most of her evenings in Sergeant Ismet's company, the two of them carrying light bedding off into the country beyond the village if they were not on duty. I heartily approved - pillow talk is one of the best ways to learn, and my flag sergeant had been the first shield-lover for more than one aspirant in the past. Somehow, Ismet also knew how to let her affairs come to an end painlessly, with neither discipline nor her young lovers' hearts being hurt.

Others began, renewed or continued affairs. I'd always thought being aboard ship would make one romantic. But not on a warship, and not when the most privacy obtainable is a few minutes in a canvas-cloaked jakes in the bows of a ship, or having the nearest hammock hung no closer than two feet.

Once again the old problem with the men roused itself. Regularly one or another of my Guardswomen would be importuned for her favours, some politely, some crudely, some demandingly, as if the sailor had certain rights given by the gods to sow all the furrows he could reach. I don't know why men seem to share a common fantasy-that a woman who chooses to find love among her own is deluded, and never has known a 'real lover'. It isn't just men with equipment grotesque enough to grace a stallion in rut. I've heard a pipsqueak clerk promise a great strapping corporal 'such a night of love that you'll forget all this foolishness'. Pah! Let those who think like that spend their time drilling soft sand with their never-to-besufficiently-lauded tools, since they seem to match love with post-hole-digging! It isn't just sailors who act like this - it was a constant problem in barracks in Orissa, every time certain young lords came a-wooing the Maranon Guard.

Enough of that. Suffice it to say the would-be lovers were rejected in much the same manner as they proposed - some with a smile and a laugh, others with a well-driven blow to just below where their mother's cord was cut off and above where their souls seemed to live.

I allowed my women to be used as common labourers until half the galleys were completed, then stepped in and told Cholla Yi firmly his sailors and marines could finish the task. We had another job - to make sure the fleet would be well fed when we sailed on.

I remember clearly our first great hunt. I remember my women hallooing and rattling their spears against shields as the great boar snorted and broke out of the thicket... It pelted towards me, tusks gleaming dirty yellow in the late afternoon sunlight, blood glinting from the spear-wound in its shoulder. There were no other two-legs in the world but me, and for me nothing but those huge curved swords flashing as the boar squealed, put its head down for the charge, and ran onto the head of my spear. The shock sent me stumbling back, and I went to one knee, bracing the spear butt on the ground as the animal ran itself up onto the spear and against the cross-bit halfway down the shaft. It roared its soul to the heavens, stumbled sideways, and fell before it knew it was dead.

My women broke their spearwall and ran towards me, shouting congratulations. For a moment, I paid no mind, but sent up a prayer thanking Maranonia, and begging her to treat the spirit of the animal kindly. It had led us a hard chase along the steep slopes on the far side of the island, turning often to charge and try to break through the tightening cordon. Brought to bay, it had fought hard and died bravely. Polillo was loud in the beast's praise, as were some of the other Guardswomen.

For them, hunting was the noblest of pastimes, second only to war. For some of my women who came from the wilder provinces beyond Orissa, it was, in fact, a religious ceremony. For me, it was a task I enjoyed, since it was outside, it tested my muscles and ability to read the ground, and put food on my table that I myself had harvested. But there were other sports I enjoyed more - a cross-country paper chase, crag-climbing, or, without a weapon, tracking an animal to its lair to see her kits or just to watch how she passed her time. When I hunted, I preferred to take my game as simply as possible, hopefully to stalk it without it being aware, and to grant the gift of death before fear came on it.

It was interesting to see, though, how others felt, and how their feelings affected the way they performed this necessary task of supplying the fleet with meat for salting and smoking. Polillo, as I said, thought hunting the finest sport known. For her, that meant the chase itself. She loved to hunt by herself, or with one or two equally agile Guardswomen. She would start game and then run it down, killing it with a short spear or, sometimes even with a hatchet, thrown with deadly accuracy on the run and then giving the final grace with her gutting knife.

Corais, on the other hand, said she found hunting not only too much like work, but boring. She hunted alone, and always made a kill. Her method was simple, but difficult. She'd walk through an area two or three times before she armed herself, generally at first light and again at twilight. When she knew the habits of the animal she wished to take, she'd creep out and find a hide either in the middle of the night or at midday, when the animals slept. When her prey came to feed or water, Corais would strike. She preferred a short, heavy bow, and seldom needed but a single shaft to bring the animal down.

To others, hunting was more social. Ismet dearly loved to organize a hunt, with beaters driving the prey towards positioned killers, a hunt she'd laid out on a sandtable, making sure each hunter understood exactly what she was or was not to do. Sometimes I thought the hunt itself, with its precise moves and strikes, not unlike a running-ball match, was an end for her, and the kill no more than a trophy to award a well-played match.

We heeded The Sarzana's cautions, and didn't take any of his beast-men, not that any of us would've considered killing them, either for sport or food; nor did we hunt those animals who wore the diadem of his servitude. We also held to the code of the huntswoman, and took no animal with cubs or who was about to bear young or an unbred yearling. All the game we slew, or fish we hooked or speared, was for the pot. We paid no heed to brilliantly plumaged birds whose feathers might have graced our helmets, or exotically furred animals whose skin might have decorated shields or hauberk. After gutting and skinning, animals were either smoke-dried, brine-cured or potted. Game birds we netted or quicklimed and then gutted and salted their bodies before packing them tightly into barrels.

We didn't need to spend any time fishing - that task was handled by working parties of seamen and The Sarzana's dolphins. It was eerie to watch. All that was needed was for sailors to wade out on a beach. Then the dolphins would drive the fish towards them, just exactly as I'd seen dogs drive sheep into their pens in the highlands above Orissa. Suddenly there'd come a threshing and splashing out in the bay, rapidly moving towards us. Then we'd see the fish, forced into schools, trying to escape the diligent dolphins. Once the fish were close inshore, and within the net's killing circle, the sailors would be ordered to drag out, and yet another bulging net of flashing silver would be beached, ready for cleaning and smoking.

I noted The Sarzana always took part in these fishing 'expeditions', and made sure, when the nets were dragged ashore, a portion was taken for him. He'd wade out into the low surf, moving awkwardly for a man whose trade had been the sea at one time, and toss a fish or two to each dolphin.

I told Gamelan about this reward, and he smiled, and said, 'Didn't I tell you once before that magic held more than its share of flummery? The Sarzana, not being a stupid man, doesn't waste his strength with spells when a well-thrown tunny can keep a servant bonded to him as strongly.'

As for vegetables, these were either dried or kept fresh with a rejuvenating spell The Sarzana cast for us. They would last at least a month, perhaps two at sea. Eggs were dipped in hot tallow, and would be good for three or four months.

Finally all the galleys were nearly ready for sea, and we wanted to be on our way. Orissa lay many, many leagues away, and we still needed help in finding a course home. I think all of us knew that our time here on Tristan was at an end. Now it was time to sail on.

The Sarzana's island gave us more than just a place to refit. It also let us relax, and let the long tension of pursuit, battle and blood ooze away, even though all of us knew we were half a world from home, and the seas between us were most unlikely to be peaceful ponds.

There was one strange and ugly incident that marred the calm.

I had the night duty and had just finished changing my guard at the second glass after midnight, when two Guardswomen pelted into the guardroom. One was Jacara, the other Ebbo, a spearwoman. Both of them had been assigned to Corais's detachment on the plateau above with The Sarzana. They brought themselves to attention and took several deep breaths before reporting. There'd been an attack on Corais. 'What happened, exactly?'

'We were not told the full details, Captain,'Jacara said. 'We heard shouts, turned to, and Legate Corais and Sergeant Bodilon were outside the building we're barracked in. Legate Corais ordered us to arm ourselves and make good haste to you, and report. She said she hadn't been injured, but requested your presence. She said there was no need to turn out the Guard.'

'Anything else?'

Jacara looked to either side, ensuring no one might overhear her, and even as my anger grew that someone or something had dared to attack one of my people, I noted Jacara's professionalism. 'The legate wore no armour, but was naked, except for her sword.'

I decided Corais might or might not have been right. I told the sergeant of the guard to wake all the watch, and post two sentries at each post. Then she was to wake the Guard, but without causing alarm or disturbing any of the sailors. I turned command over to Polillo, and, taking five of my steadiest women from the nightwatch, went back up those long flights of stairs with Ebbo and Jacara.

Corais's detachment was quartered in a small domed pavilion made of stone that might've been intended as a trysting place. It not only gave luxurious living quarters to Corais's squad, but sat separate from the other buildings on a low rise, and was the most easily defensible structure on the plateau. Torches blazed around the pavilion, and as I trotted towards it I saw The Sarzana's mansion come to life as well.

Corais's women were ready for battle, swords unsheathed, bows strung and broadheads tucked into archers' belts. Corais, now wearing full battle array, sat, grim-faced, behind a table just inside the entrance.

She stood as I entered, and saluted. Before I could say anything, she said, 'Captain, may I report privately?'

I dismissed the others. Corais looked about her, and evidently decided she might still be overheard. She led me outside. I could see, just at the edges of the torch light, the gleam of armour, where she'd put out sentries in the darkness. I waited, but some seconds passed before she spoke. I could see Corais's face, and it was pale, and shaken, far more than I'd ever seen her look even after a battle where we'd both lost friends. I realized something was very wrong, softened my voice, and told her to report, from the beginning.

Since the weather was so pleasant, she said she'd taken to sleeping on a cot just outside the pavilion's entrance. Perhaps it was wrong, but there were guards set at the four compass points around her, and she 'felt' no harm could come to her. 'Evidently,' she said, 'I was overconfident.'

She'd gone to sleep wearing what she normally did when on standby, as all of us were - light, quilted underclothing of silk that would serve as padding under her armour if she were called out.

'I was dreaming,' she said. She fell silent for a long rime. I was about to prod her, but something said not to. 'I dreamed of... men,' she eventually continued. 'A man, actually. I thought my mind painted him clearly, giving me ever}' detail, but I guess I was wrong. All that I can remember is that he was tall, broadly muscled, black hair close-cropped I think, clean-shaven, and with a smile that spoke of dark sins and their pleasures. He was naked.

'His... his member stood erect, and he came towards me.' Corais shuddered. 'I knew what he intended, and ... and I wanted it! I wanted him to take me!'

She turned to the side and was rackingly sick, vomiting again and again, trying to purge not only her body but her mind. I shouted for Bodilon to bring a rag, a washbasin, and wine. Corais started to say more, but I motioned silence until the sergeant had left. I sponged Corais's face, and made her rinse her mouth with wine, then drink a full cup.

'How in the name of Maranonia could I have wanted that? she said. 'The idea of... of being with a man has always sickened me. You know that.'

I did. Corais, like myself, was fortunate in that we'd never thought of the embrace of men as desirable, nor had either of our parents forced the notion on us.

'He was about to... about to touch me,' Corais went on, 'and then, for just one moment, I came back to myself, and it was as if I were struggling upward for air, through some pool of slime, and I would never wake in time.

'But I did, and the spell broke, and I saw that loathsome body for what it was. I was awake, and I was naked, and Rali, as I love you, as I love the Guard, as I love Maranonia, I swear that creature was still there, bending over me, one knee trying to force my thighs apart! I shouted, and rolled to the side, and came up with my sword in hand, ready to strike. But—'

'But there wasn't anybody there,' I finished for her. 'And your sentries were fully alert and said no one had come between them.'

I could see what Corais was about to say next, and put out a hand to touch her lips into silence.

'You weren't dreaming,' I said.

‘I know that. But how can you?'

I didn't have an answer, but I spoke the truth. I did know. Something or someone had tried to rape Corais, rape or more, and it was not a nightmare, but something that stalked this island, and lived, either through sorcery or in the real world. Scribe, don't ask me where this truth came from. From my own ghosts, from the power I was learning from Gamelan, from the goddess herself, from my faith in Corais, who had told me once her only dreams were of sylvan glades with gambolling animals.

Corais's eyes were wet. She stared long into my face, and then nodded once. 'Thank you,' she whispered, 'for believing me.'

I was about to say something more, then noticed, standing beyond the sentries, one of The Sarzana's grotesquely costumed beast-men. I went to him. He held out one of the ivory tablets. I paid no mind.

'Take my greetings to your master,' I said. 'I wish an audience with him in one hour. Go!'

The creature looked at me, and I saw fear in its eyes. It bounded away into darkness.

I turned back to Corais.

An hour later, I tramped up the long path to The Sarzana's mansion. Flanking me were two squads of Guardswomen, weapons ready. There were two beast-men waiting at the steps. I paid them no mind, butstrode past them into the mansion's hall, without removing my helm.

The Sarzana was waiting. He wore gaily coloured robes, as if he'd only recendy risen from sleep.

'Someone,' I began, without preamble or polite greeting, 'tried to attack one of my officers. It was Legate Corais.'

The Sarzana's eyes widened in shock. 'Up here} On my plateau?' I nodded.

'Gods. What did she do? What happened?'

'That doesn't matter,' I said. ^lShe did nothing and is safe. I know it wasn't one of our men. She described the person, but I'm not sure her memory is exact.'

'May I ask what you're thinking?' The Sarzana began, and I could see his brows furrow, that fire-ice gaze start to burn at me, and his lips form into that thin line.

'I am not accusing you, Sarzana,' I said. 'I hardly think a lord'of your powers would stoop to rape. But what of your creations? Your man-beasts?'

The Sarzana shook his head rapidly from side to side. 'Impossible. Quite impossible. When I created them, I gave them the power to lust, and to breed. But I held it back, as a final gift for when I leave this island. No, my friends are as safe as the castrated ones who once guarded my seraglio. Safer, even, since even the knife can err. Captain Antero ... I vow that none of mine had anything to do with this. When I heard the outcries, I was in a deep slumber. I tried to use sorcery to determine what had happened, but there is ... was ... something out there in the night that clouded my vision.'

'You think Corais's attacker was magical?'

'I don't know,' he said. 'A demon? An incubus? I had no time to learn from the villagers before they were murdered what spirits might haunt this island. Nor did I perform any thaumaturgics to find out. Evidently I should have.

'Captain, I cannot say how horrified I am. I take this as an affront. I promised you safety and I failed to provide it. I am deeply ashamed. But I promise you for the rest of the time you remain on this island, nothing shall happen. I'll begin casting spells this very hour to keep your women ... and Cholla Yi's men, from the slightest jeopardy. More, I'll send my own demons, and there are some who owe me fell deeds, to cast about for whatever tried to commit this terrible thing. And when I find it, him or them, their tortures shall be beyond your most hateful dreams.'

I looked deeply into The Sarzana's eyes, and I believed him. I saluted formally and stalked out.

There were no other incidents until we left the island. In fact, even the sexual attempts from the sailors stopped quite suddenly. But I no longer let any of my women go anywhere except in pairs, and, at night, no one, from Corais to myself to Dica and Ismet, was permitted to sleep beyond the sentry-ring.

The Sarzana was a constant presence, although he never intruded nor forced his company when it might not be wanted. But he was always there. The lowliest spearwoman might be walking her post at the loneliest end of the village, and The Sarzana would stroll past with a word of cheer, or a sailor might be concentrating on a splice, and find The Sarzana holding the line's end away from his knotting so it wouldn't snag. We officers ate with him often, although never so sumptuously as at that first banquet.

He never asked directly if he could accompany us when we left Tristan. But it was an idea that grew and grew, until at last we somehow all knew he'd joined the expedition, and we felt stronger and safer in that knowledge.

Just how he would help us, and just how much assistance we, in turn, were supposed to provide, was also never discussed. Not that The Sarzana was mute about his dreams, nor how one of us or all of us might be included. He systematically wooed each officer. I first saw his seduction at work one afternoon in his mansion. I'd gone looking for him at Gamelan's request to see if The Sarzana had power over windspirits, such as a seaport witch had. I found him in deep conversation with Cholla Yi, sitting in that alcove where he'd told us the story of his rise and fall.

As I approached he said, 'There's much wisdom in what you say, Admiral. Perhaps if I would have had a small cadre of loyal and skilled seamen with their own ships always at my beck things might've gone differently, and I could have summoned aid from my home isles and not been driven from my throne. You've given me much to think on, sir, much indeed.'

I cleared my throat before I entered. The Sarzana stood and greeted me. I made my request, and he said such a matter was quite simple and he'd begin preparing the proper spells at once. After he left, I looked at Cholla Yi and lifted an eyebrow. I realized he'd heard me approach.

'So?' he said, without embarrassment. 'So I'm looking for gold? What's the sin in that, because you choose to fight for a flag? I'm a mercenary, and we must always be looking for a new master. Certainly when we return to Orissa your Magistrates will be only too glad to see us sail away. Not that I've any great love for them anyway, to be honest. My men and I still think we were given an unfair casting of the die when we were compelled to carry you and your women over the seas chasing that damned Archon, instead of getting our pay and our loot as promised. Besides, do you care, Captain, what I do, once my duty to you and Orissa is honestly fulfilled?'

'I do not, Admiral,' I said. 'Once your duty is complete! And not before!'

'Then we are friends once more,' he said, and emitted that great boom of noise he meant to pass for jovial laughter.

That was but one instance. The Sarzana also spent a great deal of time with Gamelan. It seemed if I saw one, I saw the other. I found myself resenting it, oddly, then caught myself short. What was I thinking? Was I being basely jealous? Of course a great Evocator such as Gamelan would find more to talk about in the company of an equally gifted sorcerer rather than a beginner like myself, who had less than a village soothsayer's knowledge. But there was a very real concern after I'd overheard The Sarzana's offer to Cholla Yi. I knew what The Sarzana must be dangling in front of Gamelan.

At last I asked Gamelan direcdy. As always, the Evocator was straightforward.

'Of course, The Sarzana has been trying to win my support,' he said. 'He's offering, once he's restored to the throne and given full access to his former demons and alembics, to force a great spell against the other worlds, so that my blindness, both physical and sorcerous, will be ended.'

Another question occurred: 'All of us seem as if we've conferred on The Sarzana's fate and agreed we are to help him, even though no such discussion's occurred. That smacks of wizardry, and I'm not at all sure I like the thought of a spell touching any part of my thinking,' I said frankly.

'I, too, sensed that. He admitted his subconscious powers have perhaps sent a projection, if that's what it is. But what of it? I doubt if the man has sufficient strength to force such an opinion on all of us. My powers may be in abeyance, but I know our minds would rail if we sensed evil intent from him.'

A thought came and went, one that I didn't analyse until later: here it was again... again we knew something, without any firm foundation to that belief. But before I could say anything, something more important came to me: 'What do you think he wants us to do, specifically, besides taking him off this island he's exiled to?'

'I've asked him that. He said very little, other than take him to an island group some distance to the south and west. These islands were among his earliest supporters, and he can use them as his base and rallying point. We'll have to sail secretly through two others first, however, since those Konyan outer islands are not only peopled by rude barbarians, but garrisoned with strong ships of the Konyan barons, minions of his fiercest enemies. Once we reach the lands of his friends, we'll be free to sail on our way if we wish. As payment, he'll summon a conclave of the group's most skilled navigators and ship captains. Since these people are famous explorers, or so he tells me, he hopes that at least one of them will be able to help us set a true course for our home, and give us such magical aids as he can. He also vowed to help us see if the Archon still lives, and if so, to gather his wizards together to aid us in our fight.'

I thought hard. It didn't seem we had much of a choice, actually, and the longer I considered the more sure I became. We could either continue wandering these strange and deadly seas until we died, or else provide this small favour for The Sarzana. And what evil, my mind ran, would be caused by our doing this? Very little, I thought, again remembering the great respect I'd first felt for The Sarzana. If there must be kings, and from all he'd said Konya needed to be ruled firmly, there could be no better being than him. Of course he'd be far more just and merciful than any conspiracy of greedy petty lordlings, trying to force all these peoples into the wretched near-slavery of the past.

'Thank you, Gamelan,' I said finally. 'Again your wisdom has opened my mind further.'

A day later, while taking a pre-dinner stroll along the waterfront I encountered The Sarzana. I knew it was no accidental meeting, so after we exchanged courtesies, and he asked if he could accompany me, I was most gracious. Besides, I was most curious to see what he would offer, which might indicate how well he'd gauged me. The answer was very well indeed.

'You know, Captain, I have been speaking to others in your expedition.'

'Yes,' I said.

'Then you also know I've been making some of them offers of employment, or discussing other ways I might be able to help. I wish I could do the same for you.'

I said nothing.

'But I'm hardly that much of a fool,' he went on. 'I feel I know you quite well, Rali Antero, and consider you one of the most remarkable people I've ever met. Ruling is a harsh and cynical sport, and I've always believed that all men, and women, have a price. But you prove I must always allow for the exception.'

'I don't know about that,' I said, a bit tartly. 'But I do know flattery has never struck a chord in my guts.'

'I'm not flattering anyone,' he said, his voice ringing sincere. 'Although I know it sounds it. No, what I'm saying, Evidently quite badly, is that there's nothing I could offer you that you do not already have.'

I stopped and looked at him closely. I'm sure my eyebrows were lifted high. What, in fact, did I have? I slept alone, and felt that weight. The woman I once loved was lost and unknown leagues away, as were the handful of people I called family, Amalric being the only real one I cared about. Riches? I supposed I was wealthy with my share of the Antero lands and holdings. But here all I possessed were my weapons, my armour, a few clothes and what was in my warbag.

A thought struck. No, even here I was rich, at least by my own thinking. I had the respect, the obedience and, in a manner of speaking, love of all my soldiers. What more did I want, save to serve them well, and keep that love?

'Just so,' The Sarzana said gently. 'If you have a price, gentle Captain, it is beyond anything I can pay. Which is why I wish to incur a debt from you. If I regain my throne, I propose to establish a Guard much like the Maranon women. Its oath will not be to me, nor my descendants, if I indeed chose to have any. Instead, it will serve Konya. I would want such a force above all small concerns of men and the day-to-day rule. I think such a unit might be a great force for stability. I wonder if its greatest strength might be that it cleaves to its own, as does your Guard.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean men who prefer their own, or women like your Guards-women, or perhaps even those who belong to a single clan.'

I was instantly seething. 'Do you think, Sarzana, that we are what we are because of who we fuck?'

'No, no, of course not,' he said hurriedly. 'I've offended, but don't mean to. What I'm trying to say is that I do not know what makes you and your Guardswomen what you are. But something deep inside says I must find out. Not just for me, but for all of Konya. We need to learn how to serve something greater than ourselves. And that is my request. When you and your women have returned to Orissa, and returned to your duties, would it be possible for me to send two or three of my most skilled ministers and one or two high-ranking soldiers I have in mind, if the barons haven't murdered them, to spend time with your Guard? I warn you, they will ask the most penetrating questions, trying to understand what you are and bring that knowledge back to me.'

My anger subsided. The Sarzana smiled wryly. 'You see? Just because someone is... or has been... a ruler doesn't mean he can't offend by accident. Perhaps that is why we kings know enough to surround ourselves with silk-tongued agents, so we don't say the wrong thing and end up starting a war. Again, my apologies, Rali, or, rather, Captain Antero. I shall say no more. But, when the time is right, would you at least consider my request?'

My anger was gone, and I found myself feeling quite warm. I didn't say yes, nor did I say no, and after a few more minutes one of The Sarzana's beast-men appeared with a summons and the lord left.

I stood looking after him. A most unusual man, especially for a king. A ruler of great nations, but a man who was still capable of making mistakes, and being embarrassed for making them.

That night, deep in the dogwatches, I snapped awake. Nothing had happened to wake me, but I was as alert as if I'd had more than the normal four or five hours I require and a sharp round of calisthenics and a mile run as well. I dressed quietly, and went out into the village street. I stood indecisive for a moment, then started away from the waterfront towards the long stairs that led to the plateau. I came to the picket-line, and easily slipped past the sentry. She was alert, but the day I, or any of my sergeants or officers can't be more cunning than our soldiers is the day we'd best consider sheathing our blades and retiring to a room lined with thick batting. I was breaking my own orders, but felt quite safe with my sword on my hip and my dagger sheathed at the small of my back.

I went up the vast stairs leading to The Sarzana's plateau as far as the second landing, where the stairs opened again to the sky. The landing's railing faced south, and I went to it and gazed out into the night. The moon was only quartered, but there was more than enough starlight to see clearly. Down there, to the left, was the harbour, and the black dots of our ships. Over there were the headlands we'd sail beyond in the next few days, headed away from the pole star. My gaze turned in that direction. At first, there was nothing but the darkness of the ocean, and perhaps a line where the horizon marked the sky and the stars began.

Perhaps what I saw was nothing more than nightfires, or phosphorescent seas. Perhaps it was a vision. I don't know to this day and think it best to let the reader, or even you, Scribe, judge what it meant, and I'll restrict myself to what I witnessed with my own eyes. Fires began, low and spattered across the horizon, as if we were travelling across a desert, and brightly lit cities were no more than a journey of a day or so further on. But then there were more and more of them, and I imagined them to be the lights of the Konyan islands, and knew the archipelago was vaster than I could imagine. Bright, and even brighter they shone, until it was as if I were on a height far greater than I was, looking over a valley.

The lights flamed, and then, from behind me, from above the plateau, came a darkness, far more Stygian than the night, swooping like a monstrous bat towards those sea fires. It swirled and dove, and then, and this was the strangest of all, that darkness was joined by an even more greater gloom, one coming from above. The two joined and dropped, and it was as if a water-soaked cloak was cast across spattered kindling, because all went quite black. No, my memory plays me false, for three or four lights flared, as if fighting that darkness, and then they, too, were gone.

I stood there for long moments, but saw nothing else. Then I noticed a sea breeze. It was chill, and I wondered why I'd not felt it before.

I went back down the stairs, past the guard, and to my bed, but slept no more, thinking about what I'd seen, without knowing what made it to be marked. I thought of asking Gamelan what he thought, but didn't. Perhaps my mind whispered that something, once spoken, is known to all, but what is in your heart can remain safely a mystery.

Cholla Yi decided we were ready to sail. The ships were fully provisioned, and both the sailors and my Guardswomen as fit as they'd ever be. Finally we did hold a conference about The Sarzana, if something so short can be called that. Mostly the discussion was about which ship he'd sail on. Cholla Yi, naturally, wanted the honours. It didn't matter to me, other than I felt a slight niggling discomfort at this great lord (whom honestly I could hardly say I knew well, even though my guts told me I was a worrywart) and the mercenary admiral being partnered. When the meeting was over, we went to The Sarzana's mansion and formally offered ourselves as his escort, volunteering to return him to his homelands.

He was effusive to the point of tears, and behaved as if he were surprised. He swore we'd made a magnificent decision, and would be known in history as the saviours of Konya. As for himself, he could hardly find the words, and he knew that his descendants, and indeed, people who loved freedom everywhere ...

At this point, my ears closed, and I exchanged looks with Corais. At least there was one thing familiar about these lands - rulers still emoted noble speeches, full of grand words and magnificent gestures, speeches that went on and on and on. There were many ideas of what brave deeds qualified one for the Guard. Not the least was my own private one - an ability to listen to the biggest fool drone on for hours about the most empty things, while never moving a muscle from rigid attention and keeping your face bright and interested.

But at last he ran out of kingly things to say, and made a most surprising request: Would it be possible for him to sail on the same vessel as Gamelan? A look of anger flashed over Cholla Yi's face, and The Sarzana hastened to explain that he felt it his duty to attempt to restore Gamelan's powers, and wished to be close to him so their hearts could feel as one. Also, he felt it best if Gamelan was also on familiar ground, the ship he'd been travelling aboard since leaving his homeland. After that, there wasn't anything Cholla Yi could say, and so it was agreed.

I expected The Sarzana to enship trunks and bales and cases full of everything from jewels to furs to magical volumes. There were but five boxes, and each of those could be lifted by one not terribly strong boy.

Evidently The Sarzana noted my surprise, because he smiled, and said, 'When all the world's been yours, and taken away, you learn what matters and what does not. A man travels best who travels lightest.'

The night before we were to sail, Gamelan approached The Sarzana and inquired when he planned to fulfil his promise to free his subjects. I thought I saw a momentary- frown, but knew I must be wrong. The Sarzana smiled, and said, 'On the morrow. From the ship.'

And so it was. Our ships had upped anchor, and sat rolling in the slight harbour swell. The Sarzana had insisted the foredeck of our ship be set aside for him, and on it he'd put up eight torches, forming an octagon. He stood in the centre of them, and held his hands cupped, as if carrying something weighty. But there was nothing to be seen. He began chanting, but I couldn't make out his words, nor, when I asked later, could Gamelan or any of the oarsmen or sailors forward distinguish what he said.

I gasped, as I saw a torrent of creatures coming down the village streets from the plateau. At first I thought he'd invoked the ghosts of those slaughtered villagers, but then realized I was looking at his beast-men. None of us had realized how many of them he'd created, although we should've been able to, knowing how many servitors any palace requires. I couldn't say how many there were - Corais estimated five hundred, Polillo thought more, Ismet less. Most of them still wore the odd court clothing The Sarzana had made them wear.

The Sarzana kept chanting, and his arms moved further and further apart, as if what he held was growing. His chanting grew to a shout, and the torches flared and flashed myriad colours. Overhead, hawks, eagles and other birds swooped, and the calm sea frothed and dolphins and fish leapt high. He cast his invisible burden, the 'gift' of freedom, up and out, and the torches flashed and died without ever a wisp of smoke. Above us, the formations of birds shattered, and the sea in front of the village was calm and empty.

But there wasn't any calm in the village - the beast-men had gone into a frenzy. They were ripping, tearing, shredding their clothing, until they were naked, if beasts can ever be naked.

Polillo stood next to me, and said, under her breath, 'It looks as if The Sarzana's servants maybe weren't the cheerful volunteers we thought, hmm? They look pretty damn' ungrateful, if you ask me.'

I heard a snicker from Corais. 'Worse than a mustering-out party after a war,' she said.

I suppose I should've reprimanded them, but certainly didn't. I still remembered The Sarzana telling us about the spells he'd used to 'prepare the ground', and again when he'd told us how grateful these creatures were.

No one, beast or man, is grateful for chains, no matter how silken they are.

The wind came fresh from astern, and we had no need to row beyond the headlands. As our ships caught the first ocean rollers and bowed obeisance to the sea gods, and I smelt the clean salt air, we spied something odd. Sailing across our course, from headland to headland, was a flight of swans. They swam swiftly, white curving amid whitecaps.

'Now, there's an omen a' good,' I heard a sailor say. 'Th' voyage's bound to bring us luck an' send us home.'

I found my fingers crossing, and felt some dark hesitations that had been growing the past few days vanish.

We sailed under fair skies with favouring winds for almost two weeks, bearing south by southwest. Not only were sailing conditions good, but all of us, freshened by our time on land, were more cheerful and willing to work together, sailor as well as Guardswoman.

On the fifteenth day after leaving Tristan, we sighted the first land. I was shouted on deck just after I'd finished dinner, and was teaching some of the newer soldiers how to redo the serving on crossbow strings, and heard the halloo. Without waiting on ceremony, all of us pelted on deck, eager to see what awaited us. I'd made sure all of my Guardswomen were quietly warned of what Gamelan had been told by The Sarzana - we were sailing into hostile seas, and must be prepared for anything.

An island rose from the water ahead of us. There'd been heavy mist all that day, and we'd sailed close before the fog lifted and we saw it. The Sarzana was already on deck, on the quarterdeck with Stryker. I joined him there.

'This is one of three islands,' he told me. 'I'm not sure which, precisely, but it doesn't matter. All of them are garrisoned by the barons' forces, and their own natives are evil-natured. Our course is just as I wished.'

Then he said, 'Captain Stryker, if you will send signals to the other ships for them to assemble?'

Flags fluttered, and the other "ships pulled close to hear The Sarzana's wishes. His voice was magnified magically, but it didn't have the echoing, trumpet-sound to it that such sorcery usually produces. Instead it was calm and soothing and as personal as if he stood near every man and woman. His instructions were we must bend on all sail, and pray we were not seen by anyone, least of all another ship.

I went to the taffrail and watched that humped island sink out of sight as we sailed on. Grey-green, ominous, and jungled, it did indeed look menacing.

For the next three days we sailed as if we were pursued. The Sarzana had cast wind spells to help our passage, but, or so I was told by Captain Stryker, was afraid of casting a foul weather incantation to cover our passage for fear his sorcery would be 'heard' by some of the baron's magicians.

The Sarzana had changed his habits. Now he kept to himself in the cabin Stryker had given up, and when he appeared on deck made it very clear by his manners that he wished no company that wasn't most important.

Islands rose in front of us, and fell away. Some were mountainous, like that first. Others were bare rocks jutting out of the crashing surf. Still others were the brightest green and, at night, we could see the sparkle of lights from villages. I wondered how long it would be before we were discovered. But we weren't.

I attempted to distract myself by studying the notes I'd taken of Gamelan's teachings. But whenever I tried to concentrate on magic, attention seemed to wane and I'd find myself yawning and losing interest. Similarly, when I tried to continue our lessons, it always seemed inconvenient either for me or for Gamelan.

I kept myself busy with exercise, and with not letting my women get as slack. I'd ordered the sergeants and officers on the other ship to keep a similar regime. The problem was finding a way to keep exercise from becoming screamingly monotonous. I set up for myself, and for anyone else interested, a midday workout climaxed with swarming up a line, knotted at intervals, that led from the deck all the way up to where the yard crossed the foremast. From there, you were supposed to swing over to a different line leading back to the deck, this one with loops every two feet, and come down it, using only your hands. Five times around that circuit, and you hurt too much to be bored.

I was slumped against the mast, panting, after my second turn on this horrible invention of mine, watching a party of sailors just below me, on the main-deck. They had a harpoon tied to a line, and were hoping to spear one of the fish that frequently surfaced just off our bows.

I saw that The Sarzana was on deck, and also had become curious and walked forward.

Sailors, I've noted, don't have much respect for anything other than each other, particularly not for landsmen, and most particularly not for landsmen of great rank, no matter how powerful they may be.

One such sailor tapped his forehead with a knuckle in as casual a salute as I'd ever seen and said, 'Lord, we're a-fishin', an' th' beasties aren't cooperatin'. They say you were a fisherman, once. Or anyways a fishin' lord an' magic-man. Would y' mind spinnin' y'r hands some and sayin' some words that'd send a few finny ones our way?'

The Sarzana looked at the sailor, and his expression was hard and cold. 'I have no time for such as that. Nor you.' Then he walked back towards the stern.

The sailors watched him go. The one who'd spoken spat over the side. 'Well now, ain't we been told, boys. Guess t' him we're 'bout lower'n squidshit, an' we all know that's spread thin at th' bottom a' th' deeps.'

'Wonder if he forgot his fishing spells,' another man said. 'Or, maybe, if he ever knew any. Wouldn't be the first one I've known who claimed sea-magic, but made his way with fast words and a faster way when somebody's back was turned.'

They noticed me, and fell silent. I thought about it, then put it aside. Even someone who claimed to be as interested in the common folk as The Sarzana might be entitled to an off-day when he figured the only ones who ought to be able to speak to him were heavenly beings. But still, this was a man who'd gone out of his way on Tristan to be uncommonly civil and interested in everyone's doings.

Two days later, an even odder thing occurred, although I didn't realize it at the time. I'd been standing at the taffrail after we'd eaten, wondering how in the blazes our cook had managed to turn a simple stew of salt cod, shrimp netted from the stern, limes and a scattering of vegetables into something that tasted like ocean-going paste. I heard bootsteps on the companionway rail, and saw The Sarzana come onto the quarterdeck. The man at the rudder paid him no mind, eyes intent on the star he'd been ordered to keep the ship's prow aimed towards during his watch.

We spoke idly of various things for a while. Then his expression became serious.

'Captain Antero, may I bring up something that is somewhat unpleasant, even though, the gods be praised, nothing serious came of it⁵' I nodded. 'You remember that attack on your legate?'

How could I forget?

'You recall, I said at the time I had no knowledge of what could have happened, whether there was some demon of the island who'd lusted after your officer? Well, I spoke too soon, because this afternoon I was remembering the first few days after I landed, when the villagers were still permitted to speak freely to me.

'I remember there was a young maid who'd decided to be my personal bed-servant. Perhaps she was thinking of other things to come. I don't know, but certainly she would have been disappointed. A man who has had his entire world stripped away has little interest in things of the flesh. At any rate, she lingered late one evening making sure my bedclothes had been properly folded and put away. I was in another part of the building and wasn't aware she was still there.

'The Konyan officer who was my close guard came to me and said there was a distraught man outside, looking for his daughter. It was the young girl's father. We quickly found the girl, and I thought the villager would burst into tears. Instead, he slapped his daughter and told her never, ever to be up here after night fell. She ran, sobbing, from the mansion. Before her father could go after her, I stopped him and told him she was in no danger from me, certainly. I doubted any of the Konyan soldiers needed to think of rape - there were already more than enough willing maids to serve them. He said he cared neither about me, nor the soldiers. If she chose to bed one of them, that was her business. Or me, if she'd set her eyes on a great lord, he said, and I felt he would have actively encouraged such an act.

'It was the Old Man, he said. I asked him to tell me more. He said any island maiden, particularly if she was a virgin, who was out by night or, even worse, feckless enough to sleep alone outdoors, might be approached by him. He would come to her at first in a dream, then, waking, in horrid reality. The woman he attacked would invite his embrace at first, but then, as the coupling grew fiercer and bloodier, try to fight against this monster. But there would be no hope. It would be too late. When dawn rose, all that would remain was a torn body. That was what he'd feared had happened to his daughter.

'I told the man he needn't worry - my magic was more than strong enough to protect anyone serving me. Evidently, from what almost happened to your legate, the Old Man was more than a legend.' The Sarzana's expression became rueful. 'Also, my web of spells cast around my mansion wasn't as powerful as I'd thought, especially against such elementals as that demon.'

I waited, but The Sarzana had Evidently said all he'd meant to. 'Thank you. But why,' I wondered, 'did you tell me about it now? The incident is past, and I hope Legate Corais has been able to forget about it, or at least force it to the back of her mind.'

The Sarzana looked at me queerly, then said, 'To be frank, I wished to make sure that none of my servants were still thought of as capable of such a misdeed, even though they are free now, and many leagues behind us.'

I began to say something, but thought it wiser to merely thank him for recollecting the story again, and assured him that what happened in the past would stay there.

After some more inconsequentials, he said good-night and went below.

Two nights later, we encountered the second island cluster The Sarzana said were his irrevocable enemies. This time the islands were bigger, and the dark green of jungle replaced by the light green of fields and orchards. From now on, he said, until we reached the open seas once more, we should travel only by night, the fleet finding deserted islets for shelter during the day, and he would chance a spell for fog banks whenever he could. We obeyed his wishes. As we sailed deeper into the cluster by night, it became obvious these islands were much more civilized than the first. Each island glowed from tip to tip, and often we could see solid strands of light marking lit streets.

Perhaps we should have been afraid, but I think most of the men and women on our ships shared my melancholy. Were we doomed to sail for ever in furtive darkness past settled lands like these where men and women spent their lives in peace and plenty, no matter what lord or lords held fealty over them? When would we ever see Orissa?

The Sarzana promised we would reach his islands within a week, perhaps less if the winds blew stronger. Then we'd see an end to this slinking around, as if we were so many seagoing thieves.

We prayed he was right.

Most people know what it is like to lie awake in the hours before dawn, when there is nothing but utter darkness within the soul and without. This is a time when we believe no one has ever loved us, our lives are futile struggles against nothing, and our end will be unpleasant and all we were quickly forgotten.

Such a time came to me. I've never known how to overcome such thoughts, other than to realize I've gone through this before, and shall again.

The dreary panoply passed again - I was an incompetent woman and officer, those who claimed to follow me gladly were secretly laughing, nothing I would turn my hand to would ever prosper - the normal ghastliness. I forced myself to try to think of other things: my family, my brother, Amalric, my mother, Emilie, even the panther-woman I'd been named after. I felt the sordid images swirl, and start to vanish. I sighed, knowing the depression was passing and I' soon be asleep.

My mind became clear, as clear as any crystal spring, as clear as any rouged gem. I thought of what The Sarzana had said the other night, and then remembered one of the best ways I had of telling which of my women might be guilty of a minor peccadillo: suspect most the one who explains the most. Then confusion dropped her cloak over me again, but I struggled against it. I remembered that sudden clarity and fought to bring it back. And gradually I won the fight. And I remembered.

I remembered the Old Man. I remembered something I'd heard, or read. Perhaps my mother might've told it to me, although I doubt I was old enough to have heard it. Maybe it was a tale another soldier had passed along ... that was it. I'd heard it, but oddly, more than once, once from a fellow soldier, then again from an old village witch who'd assisted a patrol of mine when we'd been after bandits in the hills. Two legends, from people who came from very different places, and could never have known each other. It came clearly - the legends were not of an Old Man, but a woman. She was called the Old Hag, and would come to a man and drain him of all his strength, and leave only a husk in the morning. No one was invulnerable, unless ... he had a sword. Bare steel would keep away or drive away the Hag.

I remembered Corais saying she came awake with a sword in her hand, and knew anywhere but in barracks she slept with one beside her bed.

I wondered about the legend The Sarzana had told me so conveniently, and, more darkly, why he'd told it to me.

My mind flashed into another channel - The Sarzana's snarl when asked for a simple fishing spell, and the sailor saying perhaps he didn't know any. I thought of Gamelan's eagerness and pleasure at being able to hook a fish from under the ice, and how clumsy The Sarzana had looked wading in the surf when his dolphins were fishing for us, most unlike a man who'd grown up close to the sea.

All these thoughts were unborn foundlings compared to the next ones: from the time we'd come in sight of Tristan until we'd left, all of us had felt queerly safe, and contented. Yet we'd seen: an empty village; houses that were blood-soaked; a barracks charnel house; beast-men playing on human bones; and more.

What fools we were!

Worse, we'd met a wizard-king, who told us he'd been exiled by evil men, and all of us had instantly believed him. Of course. That made perfect sense. We all knew of wizards who had power enough to create beings from the dead and who always used that power unselfishly. We all were familiar with kings who needed to answer to no one, and how generally benevolent they were. How could anyone dream such a sorcerer king as we met could be anything other than a saint? Of course, The Sarzana would never be the same as the Archons.

Fools, fools and worse.

So we'd blithely agreed to become involved, to take this man, who an entire group of island nations had driven out, and help him return to his throne.

No. We knew ... we felt... we thought... we knew, by the gods how we knew.

I understood why The Sarzana had chosen to sail on our ship - it was the only one carrying an Evocator, no matter that he was temporarily helpless, and his apprentice. That was also why my attempts to study my magic with Gamelan since we set sail from Tristan had failed - The Sarzana didn't wish any petty magics to ruin his own great spell.

The night was red around me now, from anger as well as shame at my stupidity, at all of our imbecility.

I rolled out of my hammock, and pulled on clothing. I started towards the companionway, not sure what I intended. I set a course in my mind - I must quietly wake Gamelan and tell him what I was thinking. Maybe I was being a damned fool, maybe these were nothing but dark thoughts. No! This was real, not those pink happy clouds we'd been drifting through since coming on The Sarzana's island. I came back for my sword. I don't know why, but I felt I might well need it before the dawn. Just then I heard a soft cry from above decks, a thud, ropes creaking and a splash.

I went up the companionway like a bolt, blade in hand and burst on deck. All was still, all was silent once more. Up forward, I could see the two lookouts, peering out into the night. Amidships, my two guards paced their rounds back and forth, fully alert, around the area where some of my women had chosen to sleep on deck. None of them noticed me, and I realized they'd been ensorcelled.

I could see no sign of movement on the quarterdeck. No sign of the helmsman, no sign of the master's mate who should have the watch. We'd lost way, and I could tell by the s-curving of the wake no one was at the rudder.

I ran up the ladder. The man who should've been steering the ship sat against the rudder brace. His legs were splayed, and he lolled as if drunk. I smelled no wine on his breath, but he babbled in a stentorian whisper and his eyes were glazed, as if he'd drunk strong wine or gazed on horror. Sprawled just behind him, face-down, was the heavy bulk of Klisura, the ship's sailing master. His own dagger, a long sliver of steel he'd loved, was driven deeply into his back, pinning him to the deck. Behind him dangled the falls where Captain Stryker's gig should have been, just overside. They now hung to the water, and die boat was gone. I swore, then shouted loud for the Guard and the watch below.

I had a clear picture of what had happened: Klisura and the helmsman had been forced by magic to lower the boat. Somehow Klisura had found the strength to fight back, and been slain. And the killer had escaped in the boat.

I looked out, astern and on either side, where I could see the bulk of more islands, but saw no sign of the gig.

Men and women were boiling out of their sleep, both on deck and below. I went back down the ladder, paying no mind to the babble, and went straight to one cabin.

It was empty. The Sarzana was gone.

It was just then the spell broke for all of us.

Fifteen

The Giant's Dice

As you might imagine, the meeting that followed was grim. We'd signalled by lantern what had happened to Cholla Yi's flagship and the others and called a captain's meeting at first light. It was purely by fortune that predawn light showed a low sandspit about a quarter-mile distant. That would be ideal - the conference had to be for officers only, with no possibility of eavesdropping, since the meeting would almost certainly be acrimonious. And so it was.

Each ship sent her captain and sailing master. We had to use one of the longboats, not only because of the theft of our gig, but I thought it necessary for both Corais and Polillo, in addition to Gamelan, Stryker and Duban, who'd been promoted from rowing master to Klisura's position, to be present. Duban, who I liked no better now than when he was bellowing at the oarsmen as if they were slaves, immediately had to wonder why it was necessary for three women to go, especially when two of them ranked no higher than his mates. I didn't answer, since any explanation would've been insulting -I wanted at least two people I could trust at my back at a council with these pirates.

Stryker kept muttering aloud that he couldn't believe what had happened. How in all the wet hells could every damned one of us be bound by The Sarzana's spell? Gamelan reminded Stryker he'd already seen greater sorceries - the wall that had been quickly rebuilt around Lycanth or the Archon's last spell that cast us into these strange seas.

'Th't be different,' Stryker said. 'Volcanoes ... walls ... but not somethin' like this. One of us should've seen, dammit! Seems t' me, there should've been a moment somebody, anybody could've know'd better!'

'There was such a moment,' Gamelan said quiedy. 'Captain Antero was graced with it.'

Stryker nodded sombrely. 'Guess th't's better'n nothin'. Sure makes yer wonder, what would've happened if'n nobody'd caught on, and we'd a just sailed right into whatever th' devil intended fer the likes of us. And I wish t' hell she'd seen the light back on th't damned island.'

On the islet, the meeting broke into the predicted storm, after I'd given the details on The Sarzana's flight. Cholla Yi alternated between rage and bluster at how Gamelan and I had failed. I pointed out no one had exactly shown much second sight concerning The Sarzana, which made Cholla Yi's bellowing louder.

'What of it? None of us have pretended magical abilities! None of us spent nearly as much time in the company of that damned pretender as you two. None of us—'

Gamelan interrupted: 'What you say is true, Admiral. But the past is sealed in amber. What happened, happened. It seems our time should be best spent trying to figure out what comes next.'

'Next? How can we be plan anythin',' Stryker said in his near-whisper, 'here on strange seas, knowin' we've loosed a demon? How does we know what Th' Sarzana's got in his noggin' fer us, once he lands on friendly shores. Won't he cast some kind'a spell so's no one’ll know he escaped? Dead men have still tongues.'

'I don't think he'll bother,' Gamelan said.

'Worse yet, then,' Duban growled. 'Wonder how long it'll take before somebody figures out how he got off Tristan and goes looking to scupper whoever cut him free?'

There were mutters from the other captains. One of them, Meduduth, burst into blind rage: 'This gods-cursed expedition is dooming us all! We should've never sailed on this booby's task in the first place! We should've held firm at Lycanth, and demanded our gold and the hell with what the friggin' Orissans and their damned pervert bitches wanted!'

Steel whispered from its sheath, and Corais blurred across the sand. Meduduth yelped and leaped back, but the point of her sword was at his throat. Other hands went for their blades, and both Polillo and I had ours half-drawn.

'One more word,' Corais said tightly, 'one more, shitheel, and that shall be your last.'

'Stop!' I shouted, and Corais came to herself, and stepped back, but didn't lower her blade. 'We don't have time for any of this! The Sarzana is loose, and we loosed him. As Gamelan said, what now? Admiral? What are your suggestions?' Corais calmed, resheathed her sword and stepped back beside me. But her eyes stayed on the ship captain.

I'd deliberately turned the discussion to Cholla Yi. If he had any ability to lead, beyond his talent at chicanery and brutality, he'd best show it now. Finally, he forced composure, breathing deeply. I knew he was more angry than any of us not just because all rogues fancy themselves perfect judges of character, even though they're mostly the quickest fooled; but also because he must've been counting on The Sarzana's invitation to join his banner for loot and gold. Cholla Yi growled, and plucked at his beard, but the ruddiness faded somewhat from his cheeks, as he thought.

'I see nothing good,' he finally confessed. 'No shining strategies open before me, save one, and that I won't mention, since it's barely worth laughing at.'

'No one will laugh,' I said. 'We are all equally fools, it appears.'

'Very well,' the admiral said. 'My only thoughts are these: what are the chances of The Sarzana making it safely ashore, to a friendly isle? If what you said is right, Captain Antero, and your suspicions sent signals to him, although I must wonder how in the hell you, of all people, managed to slip free from his incantation; he must've fled before he planned, which suggests he might not have ended at his planned destination. Perhaps he fell on a lee shore, or, better, in the company of cannibals.' Cholla Yi tried, and failed, to look hopeful.

'Damned doubtful,' one of the other captains, Kidai, put in. 'I've never known a scoundrel to do anything convenient.'

Cholla Yi nodded soberly. 'Maybe, Captain Antero, you could prepare a spell with Gamelan's help, and confirm whether or not...' his voice trailed off. 'No. Forgive me. I wasn't thinking. Even I know that'd be like lighting a beacon in a mist. Forget I spoke of that. Let's do nothing that might attract that demon's sorcerous eye.' He thought again, then brightened. 'Maybe I've put too harsh a face on things,' he said. 'Perhaps no one'll find out we loosed this scourge until we've somehow found our course back towards home.'

Gamelan shook his head. 'I wish I could sustain your hope, Admiral. But that's not very likely. We've got to assume Konya has wizards as powerful as The Sarzana, since they were able to topple him. When someone with his power suddenly reappears, there'll be many conjurations made, and all of them will be trying to find out how he broke his bonds. No, we can't assume we'll not be netted with the blame, at least not for very long.'

'Suppose we turn back now,' Polillo tried. 'Could we resupply back on Tristan, and then sail due east, towards familiar seas? Maybe sail a little to the north, in the hope we can avoid those reefs and volcanoes that blocked us, in the hope of striking familiar land, Jeypur or even Laosia, whose coast we could follow back to Orissa?'

Both Stryker and Gamelan started to say something, and Gamelan indicated the captain should speak first.

'I sure don't want t' throw them dice,' he said. 'You can figure it'll be a long damned sail. On seas we don't know more about th'n a half-a-copper whore knows gold when she sees it. If we had charts, maybe. But th' way she lays, I susp'ct the men won't hold firm fer long.'

I knew what he was thinking and agreed - these officers held their commands by force, luck and consensus. Mutiny could never be further away than one order that rang false to these disgruntled seamen. These rootless freebooters might easily overthrow their officers, murder us, and hoist the black flag. They might think they were as likely to find fortune as pirates here as back in more familiar waters around Orissa. Besides:

'Even if they would,' I said, 'would we be able to find Tristan again? Wouldn't the same spell The Sarzana laid to keep the Konyans from finding the island, assuming he spoke truth, work against us, since we're surely now his enemies?'

'It would,' Gamelan said. 'That was just what I was about to say. No. We can't turn back.'

'We sure as hell can't just sail on blindly,' Phocas, Cholla Yi's sailing master snapped.

'Of course not,' I said. 'We have the stick map, and now we know, since we've seen other islands, it's a true model. If we could manage to decipher it fully, we wouldn't be sailing blind.'

'Still ain't good enough,' Stryker said.

'No,' I agreed. 'But I don't see anyone having a better plan. I suggest this - we sail on, south and west. We should look for the most civilized island we can find. We sail in, boldly, and tell the truth - or at least a bit of it. We claim to be an exploratory expedition that lost its way. We come from a great mercantile empire, and seek to open trading routes with the west. It would be of great benefit for someone to aid us and give us directions back towards our own lands. Also we can hint it'd be dangerous to obstruct us, since our country has powerful magicians who'll seek revenge if harm comes to us. Maybe we can get a spell from one of their wizards, or better yet, since there'll be less possibility of our part in The Sarzana's escape being discovered by magic, sailing directions from a navigator or ship's captain. Perhaps they've got Guilds for deepwater seamen, as Redond does.'

There were mutters of approval. Stryker hissed, a noise that I thought signified support. Cholla Yi looked at the other sailors, and nodded his great head.

'Possibly,' he said. 'Possibly. At least your plan is a bold one, and we won't have to slink around until we're found out. Not at all bad, for a woman, and not dissimilar from what I myself had been about to suggest.'

Corais and Polillo stiffened, but showed no other sign of resentment. It didn't matter at all to me if Cholla Yi wanted to hog credit for this plan - if my vague idea could even be given that much of a name. I also chose to ignore the jab about it coming from a woman. Cholla Yi would never change.

'The most important thing,' I went on, 'is we'll have to move quickly. I sense Gamelan's right - sooner or later, our role in unloosing The Sarzana will be discovered. It'd be best if we were long gone from these islands they call Konya before that.'

So it was agreed. We'd sail on. Any landfall would be compared to the stick map, to see if we could begin triangulating our location and start drawing our own map of these seas and islands.

When we returned to the ship, Gamelan drew me aside. 'I think you did come up with the best idea, Rali, even though it's far from perfect, as you said. There's but one problem we haven't considered.'

'The Sarzana,' I said.

'Yes. I don't need any magic to know he'll begin working to regain his throne as rapidly as possible, by blood and spells, which is another reason for us to be out of this region quickly. Also, there is the blood-debt we've incurred in unleashing him.'

'I know.' That weighed heavily on me. There was a stain on us all, even though we committed our crime unknowingly, under the influence of sorcery. 'How'll we make recompense? Or, at least, be shriven?'

'I don't know,' Gamelan said heavily. 'I don't know. But I do know it will have to be paid.'

As our ships set full sail once more, Corais joined me on the quarterdeck. I noticed she had a strip of brightly patterned silk tied around her biceps. 'You've sworn an oath?'

Corais nodded. 'I tore this from one of the robes The Sarzana left behind. It'll remind me how I was shamed by that bastard. I vow, Rali, to you, to Maranonia, to Te-Date and to my own hearth god, that when next we meet... and I sense we aren't free of him yet... that I'll pay him back in blood for what he did to me!'

For several days we saw little civilization. The isles we passed were small and rocky, and the few villages we saw clinging to their sides would hardly give us either the magician or navigator we sought. A few times we chanced hailing fishing boats, and bought fish for our supper with a gold coin. A few coppers would've been sufficient, but we wanted information as well. I invited them on board, and casually chatted about their lives to lead into questions about what we really sought.

There was little to be learned. Each island was independent, and had little contact with another, or with what one fisherman called 'the men of the lights' further south and deeper into the archipelago. Sailing was hazardous beyond this island group where the sea was open, with little land except the reefs and ship-rending stacks known as the Giants' Dice, where the ocean currents pulled your vessel into their embrace.

They explained why they never dealt with the Konyans further south. Neither had anything the other wanted. No, they knew of no noted sorcerer, and were most grateful they didn't. One fisherman said he'd heard stories of a great war between lords and magicians some time gone, one that had ended in the defeat of the wizards. He told us, and swore it was true, sea demons had been raised to bring them down. I guessed he'd heard tales of The Sarzana's defeat. The only diviners he knew about were the village witches, which were all they needed to call the fish, and maybe provide a bagged wind to drive a boat safely home or, failing that, a little weather-luck to keep boats from getting caught in the storms.

As for navigators skilled with map, astrolabe and compass, they had no place here with these fishermen. A man didn't need to sail far beyond his own village. Haifa day out, half a day back at most, and any boy knew how to read the sea close to home long before he was permitted to stand behind the rudder. If a boat was caught by a storm, and driven out to sea, well, the fishermen shrugged, if the gods were good he might find his way home. Otherwise ...

We were told we'd likely find what we were seeking further south, beyond the Giants' Dice, which had been cast there by monstrous beings ages before, after they'd gambled and lost with men - the stakes being these fishing islands. But we'd best sail carefully, and perhaps wait some weeks, until the summer storms that were brewing blew past. But we had no time to spare.

We sailed on, and as the tiny dots of land grew fewer and fewer, the seas became stronger, green rollers that seemed to have travelled through many waters, building strength as they went.

The way was rough and wet for our small galleys, but I'd learned by now a small, light boat like these could ride out almost any tempest. Besides, we'd survived the storm of the Archon, and those great waves that came with it. And so, unworried if a bit queasy, we bore away from all land, still questing towards the heart of Konya.

One morning, just after dawn, a lookout sighted a sail far ahead, just on the horizon. One, then three more, as we overhauled them. We conferred hastily. Should we avoid them? Should we close? Cholla Yi said we should proceed boldly. We outnumbered them more than two to one, probably had speed on them, and if they were hostile, well, his men at least were eager to wash the salt from their swords in blood, particularly if there was loot in the offing. Perhaps this might be a way to test the situation rather than sail blindly into some harbour where we could be trapped.

We altered course towards the four ships. When we did, our ships began rolling even more. Now we were sailing almost due east, with the wind on our starboard beam. The seas grew heavier as we sailed on, the wind rose in ferocity, and rain began sheeting down in intermittent squalls. It was mid-morning, but it might just as well have been a grey, dark twilight.

‘I’m thinkin' we'll be comin' to a blow,' Stryker said. "Pears to me them fishermen weren't tale-tellin' when they said th' summer storms be damned fierce.'

Duban drew him over to the staff our long weather glass was stapled to. I followed. Stryker tapped the glass, eyed the level the liquid within had sunk to, and whistled.

'Aye,' Duban said, having nearly to shout to make himself understood over the wind's roar. 'Dropped 'most a fingerwidth in less'n three turnings of the hourglass. We're in for it, Cap'n.'

'That we be,' Stryker agreed. 'Turn out the watch below. Make certain all's lashed down. 'N have th' galley fire quenched. Double-lash th' boats, and secure th' oars.' He turned to me. 'Cap'n Antero, if you please. Could I have a work detail of yer Guardswomen to help secure th' cargo below? I'll detail mates to supervise.'

I shouted for Corais, and told her to follow Stryker's orders. She nodded, then looked over my shoulder, and her eyes widened in amazement.

I turned, and I, too, gaped. As the storm built, I'd momentarily forgotten the Konyan ships. Now, we were within a few hundred yards, and even through the rain, could see them clearly. Three of them were smaller, about twice the size of our galleys. Each had three masts, with lateen sails, and were high-decked, with a single poopdeck running from amidships to the stern. It was the fourth ship that made us marvel.

It was a galley, but one such as I could never have imagined. I thought it about ten times the length of our ships, and as wide as it was long. It had but a single row of oars, but those oars stuck far out into the water. They disappeared into oarholes on a lower deck, so I couldn't see how many men it took to work each of them, but thought there must've been at least five or six to each bench. Above the main-deck was a shelter deck that wasn't much smaller than die main, and, above that the topdeck. Perhaps it was this that gave the ship its amazing appearance, since it was set with three cabins that were roofed like houses on land, with each roof uptilted like so many sun bonnets at the corners. I could see the ship's timbers were covered with elaborate carvings. All of die cabins had huge round portholes, as did the main structure on the deck below. Heavy railings lined the decks, and the ladders leading to each level were more like stairs. It looked, in short, like a two-storey villa, or a small country temple had been magically given a hull and sent to sea. There was a single mast set in the middle of the ship, and one square sail, now with a double goose-wing reef, hung from a yard that must've been turned from a huge tree.

'Damned thing's a wooden water-beetle,' Stryker said, and so it appeared as the long oars flailed at the seas, sending up nearly as much spume as the wind.

'Surely hell to navigate in a storm like this,' Duban said. 'Look at how it's bein' driven downwind, an' the full storm ain't struck yet. Must be near flat-bottomed like a barge.'

It didn't take any expertise on my part to know he was right -1 could see ten, no fourteen men bending mightily at twin tillers that led to the monstrous rudder I saw for a flash when the ship pitched into a swell, burying its bow in a wave and sending its stern pointed skyward. More sailors swarmed around the shrouds.

'What is it?' Polillo asked.

'Can't tell,' Stryker said. 'Unhandy vessel like that, I'd say she might be some kind'a inshore merchantman. But look at them workin' parties they got crawlin' all over th' pig. Too damned many sailors fer a merchantman's profit. Maybe she's a warship. But how does she fight, dammit? Ifn she's got her ram - 'n she's wallowin' like she do -I can't see how it'd do any damage, 'less she was a'ter somebody at anchor. Hell, maybe these Konyans get cross-eyed drunk 'fore they go to battle and try to run down anythin' they spy. Probably, though, they just pull up alongside each other and go at it 'til they run out of heads to chop off, and there be the winner, by damned.' He grew thoughtful. 'It'd surely be interestin',' he said, 't' see what we could do against such a ship, considerin' the amount of prize cargo she might bear.'

I, too, was thinking in those terms, but caught myself. Was I becoming as great a freebooter as Cholla Yi's men? There was a purpose for ships, after all, besides war and booty. But still ... I thought of four or so swift galleys, harrying such a behemoth, like direwolves taking down a giant bear. I set the thought aside, to ponder and develop at a more placid time.

The three smaller ships were obviously escorting the fourth. When we approached, they'd been in a vee-formation in front of the galley. Now they'd changed course, and all three were between us and their charge.

'Damn' protective, ain't they,' Duban said. 'I'd surely give a year out’ve my life to root around in them holds for an hour or so, playin' keepsies. Pity we've got other business with 'em.'

Signal bunting fluttered to the tops of the escorts' masts, which we couldn't read, but was, no doubt, challenging us, indicating what waters these ships of an unknown type hailed from and asking what was our intent. I looked at the flagship to see what reply Cholla Yi was making. He'd bent on a single large white banner, evidently figuring that would be taken for peaceful intent even in these foreign waters. I told Stryker to do the same.

Perhaps it meant something else here, or perhaps we weren't being believed, for I saw armoured men fight their way out on deck into positions by the rail, and two light catapults on each of their foredecks were cleared for action.

'Stryker,' I ordered. 'Signal Cholla Yi to stand off. They think we're attacking.'

'Not in this weather we ain't,' he said, but shouted for the mate on watch.

'We'll try to stay within eyesight of them,' I decided. 'When the storm's over, we'll approach them again with a single ship.'

'Signal from Admiral Yi, sir,' the watch mate ordered. 'All ships... proceed independently. Run SSE before wind. Will reassemble ... that's all I can make out, sir.'

Now there was no time to worry about these foreign ships as the storm closed around us. The air was heavy with spume. The wind had grown into a steady scream. I counted one, two, only three of our ships visible through the murk, then lost them. The Konyans had already vanished into the storm.

'How's the glass?' Stryker asked.

'Still dropping!'

Stryker swore. He snapped a stream of orders, and working parties fought their way forward along the storming bridge, and put a double reef on the foresail, leaving only a scrap of canvas to steady us. The mainmast and yard were lowered, and I heard Stryker cursing Duban for not bringing it down an hour earlier. I had a moment to wonder whether Klisura's murder might not punish us further, since it was evident from Stryker's treatment of the new master he had nowhere near the regard for Duban that he'd had for Klisura.

I ordered my Guard below. Polillo, who was looking distincdy pale, pulled me aside and swore she'd rather be washed overside than be stifled in her sickness below. I took pity, and ordered her to tie herself to the port rail, and stand by to help the steersman. Stryker had already detailed two men to the tiller, but even they were fighting to hold the ship on its course. I went below and told off Dica and two others to take care of Gamelan in his cabin, and also quiedy gave them the harsh order that in the event of complete disaster their lives were less vital than the wizard's, and they should act accordingly. They understood and took no offence.

Back on deck, I tied a line around my waist and to the staff, with about ten feet of slack so I could move around the small quarterdeck. Stryker and Duban did the same.

The winds grew louder still, rising to a howl. The rigging screeched like a cornered bear. Stryker ordered the lookouts in the forepeak below, and we began taking green water over the rails. We had barely got the mast down in time - now, anyone venturing down onto the weather deck wouldn't stand a chance. It didn't look as if we were on a ship at all, but rather on two square rafts, the foredeck and the quarterdeck, invisibly tied together, drifting through this tempest.

The strangest thing, though, was something you would never hear from an old sailor's dockside yarn about great storms - the weather was tropical, muddy. The waves that dashed over us were warm as blood.

We were running due south, the wind behind us, unable to hold the south-southeast heading Cholla Yi had ordered. A cross-swell hit us from the east, and our ship was pitching, slamming from side to side. Polillo was now at the tiller, and I saw her muscles bulge as she and the tillermen fought to hold our course. The ocean was slate-grey, the shrieking wind blowing the tops off the waves, and streaking the sea itself. It was hard to tell where air stopped and the water began. The winds paused for a moment, and I saw, astern of us, another Orissan galley and then the typhoon closed in.

The cross-swell was making our ship yaw, and Stryker shouted, close in my ear, we were in peril - we could broach. It was more than the wind, he thought. We were in the grip of an ocean current that drove us along as fast as if we were riding the spring flood down Orissa's river. We needed to put out a sea anchor. Stryker told me what was needed. I knew where the bosun's stores were, up forward, and worked my way to a hatchway, waited until there was a space between waves, jerked the hatch open and dropped down the companionway.

If the deck was hellish, it was worse below. The world, lit only by the dim glow from a handful of small glass deadlights set in the deck above, pitched and rolled. The air was as thick as a sauna, and reeked of fear-sweat, dirty bodies, stale bread, mould, vomit and shit. Not everything had been lashed down in time - a mess chest skittered across the deck, and a sailor barely rolled out of its way. Bronze dishes clattered their way from side to side as we rolled, and I felt the crunch of shattered pottery under my boot-heels.

Stryker's sailors were in every posture imaginable. Some tried yarning with their shipmates, and I wondered if the stories made sense and, if so, who could tell. Some were praying. Some just waited, staring blankly, having tied themselves to a deck stanchion. Some pretended unconcern, and cast lots on a blanket, although I noted no one seemed quite sure of the stakes. But one sailor, an old grey-bearded man whose name I remembered as Bertulf, topped everyone. He'd slung his hammock from its beams, crawled in, and gone to sleep. He wasn't shamming. I bent over and heard him snore, and his breath would've made a whale's spout smell sweet.

My Guardswomen were holding in as good an order as could be expected. Even though I'd never trained them for such a time, there were no signs of panic or disorder. Again the truth of the old saw that to fight easy you must train hard came. I took Cliges and Ebbo, both nearly as strong as Polillo, and we worked our way forward.

We were just to the mainmast step when I smelt something. Smoke! A wooden, tarred ship could explode in seconds if fire broke out, and I'd heard tales of ships that had ironically been destroyed in storms by runaway fire, not water. I saw, or maybe thought I saw, a tiny wisp of smoke. It was near a chest mounted solidly to the deck, and I remembered it contained the cook's pots. I rushed to it, jerked the catch away, and the door opened. Smoke billowed out. Someone shouted fire, and I heard a rush of feet, and a blow, and a shout of 'Stop' as panic spread but I paid no attention. I looked about wildly for water, saw nothing, had a moment to realize the irony, then spotted a bucket lashed to a beam, and ripped it from its stays and cast its contents into the chest. Steam billowed, and I heard a hiss over the roar of the wind outside. I nearly vomited. But the jakes bucket did its work, and the smoke was gone, the fire out.

I spun, looking for the culprit, and spotted him. The cook cowered against a bulkhead. I stepped towards him, and he moved away, holding his hands up as if to ward off a blow. 'It was ... just a bit of punk ... I didn't mean ... I thought it was safe ... it was so I could start the fire when the wind died ...' and then both his hands jerked up in the air, as if he were praying, and he collapsed.

The pillow-nosed sailor named Santh bent and wiped the wet blade of his dagger on the corpse's smock. He straightened, sheathed his knife, and looked at me. 'Someone's intent on killin' me, I think it's on'y fair I do them first.' Santh laughed. "Sides, th' bastard couldn' cook worth fish shit, anyway.'

I didn't say anything, but pushed past. We had an entire ship to worry about. Punishing him was Stryker's or Duban's duty, anyway -since I tried to stay clear of disciplining the sailors - if he'd even committed a crime in their eyes.

We found our way to the bosun's storeroom, and, cumbered with the coil of heavy line, went back the way we came, and out on deck.

I didn't think it was possible for the storm to worsen, but it had. There was nothing in the universe except our ship, and the storm. I could barely make out the forepeak through the streaming rain. Following Stryker's orders, we tied the great line in a bight, and lashed it securely to the sternpost. Then we let it stream astern. I could feel the difference almost immediately, as our ship slowed its wild yawing. It did, however, have a nasty snap as each wave rolled past under us, and the sea anchor came taut.

A great wave loomed up from astern. I had time to grab Cliges, scrabble for a handhold, and saw Ebbo go flat, both hands clinging for life itself to the taffrail, and the wave came down on us. I felt that same swirl and water pulling as I'd known when the volcanoes' sea-waves took us. But this lasted only for half an eternity, and then was gone. I stumbled to my feet, gave Cliges a hand up, and then shuddered, as I saw four full feet of the taffrail had been ripped away by the wave. The taffrail... and Ebbo! I pulled my way to the side, and peered out. Perhaps, just for a moment, far astern, I saw the white flash of an arm flailing, or perhaps I imagined it. But then there was nothing.

Duban was beside me. 'Mebbe,' he growled, 'that'll give th' tempest a sacrifice it wants.'

I almost struck him, but what good would it do? Perhaps he was right. I said a short prayer for my spearwoman Ebbo to Maranonia, and resolved to make sacrifice for her when we returned to Orissa, as I must do for all too many of my women. But there wasn't time for mourning, as the storm took us again in its grip, shaking us, shaking us, shaking us, as one of my brother's warehouse terriers worries a rat.

The storm roared on. The sea anchor helped, but it still wasn't enough. The ship shuddered as wave after wave cascaded over the main-deck, and I wondered how long the hull could take the punishment. I asked Stryker, and he shrugged - who knew?

We needed something to flatten the seas. I wished yet again Gamelan hadn't lost his powers - perhaps he could've cast a spell to help, maybe surrounding the ship with calm, a placid moon pool. I knew it would take a sorcerer of mighty powers to produce a conjuration that'd stand against this hurricane. I thought, and then it came. Oil. Stryker said we only had a few containers of cooking oil below, and one or two jugs of mineral oil to keep the weaponry from rusting.

I grinned - this might be easy. One container could easily become many. Just then, in the height of the storm, it came together, if only for a moment. I had a flashing memory from my childhood, of puzzling over strange squiggles that meant something to others but were meaningless ciphers to me, until one day there was a snap, and I could read. Now I had a vision of what Gamelan had been saying about Janos Greycloak's 'single natural force'. If that was true, and I knew it so, there must be many, many ways to the same end, as many as the mind of man or demon could produce. Now, as to what I needed ...

It was as if there were some bearded pedant in my mind, perhaps one of my brother's boyhood tutors, except one with real knowledge, saying, 'Oil, harrumph, yes. Oil is a liquid, and all liquids share common qualities, do they not? The trick then must be ...'

The trick was easy, and I didn't need to go below. I grabbed the pannikin that hung next to the scuttlebutt for the steersman, and held it out. In an instant the pouring rain filled it to overflowing. I opened the door to the storage cabinet under the binnacle, and found the small vial that held oil to replenish the compass needle's bath. Holding myself steady against the ship's pitching, I uncorked the vial and let a single drop fall into the pannikin.

The words came swiftly...

Water listen

Water hear

Feel your cousin

Hold her close

Let her body be yours

Breathe together

You are one

You are her.

... and the pannikin was full of oil.

It was equally simple to dump the sand out of the fire buckets, let them fill with water, drop a bit of the oil from the pannikin into the bucket, and then heave the full bucket of oil over the stern. Polillo exerted all of her great strength and held the tiller steady, and the other four of us emptied bucket after bucket overside.

Emboldened by success, I chanced another spell, telling the men to touch each bucket against the sternpost before dumping it. Again, I chanted:

From the ship you were born

Follow your mother

Follow her close

Follow her near

Let none come between.

I couldn't tell if this incantation worked. The oil did seem to hang close to the ship's stern, and follow us as if we were leaking from a great tank, but maybe our suction was just drawing it along. I didn't think the spell was a complete success, certainly - it wasn't what I'd envisioned, intending to produce that huge moon pool with us sitting in the middle.

The second spell's partial success didn't matter much. The oil held the seas down, and not nearly as many came crashing aboard, especially from astern. Not that we'd suddenly entered some kind of magical safe harbour. The winds still screeched and the ship snapped back and forth, back and forth.

There was another problem - when we rolled the ship hesitated for long moments before coming back to normal. Maybe we were taking water in the bilges, maybe we were rolling farther than the craftsman who first carved a model of this galley to build from could dream of. On one such roll I found myself hanging from the port rail, looking almost straight down at Polillo at the tiller. We stayed like that nearly for ever, then, reluctantly, the ship groaned and started back. Even with the sea anchor and the oil, we were hard-pressed.

Time passed. It must've been only hours, because I don't remember darkness. I remember water, and wind, and being slammed back and forth, bruise growing upon bruise. I remember only two things clearly from those long hours: I relieved Polillo at the tiller, as two other sailors took over for the steersmen. Her face was bright red. I thought at first it was merely flushed, but then realized she was bleeding. The wind was strong enough to cut skin like a knife. I ordered her below. She peered Wearily, then nodded and made no protest. The other was when a wave lifted us, almost broaching us to and rolling us under, and I thanked Te-Date for the sea anchor. We rolled almost on our beams, and I looked out and nearly screamed. In the trough below was that monstrous Konyan galley, its sail ripped to shreds, mast broken halfway up, and no sign of life on its decks, its tiller lashed hard and unmanned. For a moment, I thought we were going to be cast down on top of it, shattering both ships, but then it was away, invisible in the gale.

There wasn't anything then, except the wind and the water and the fear.

Then we broke into clear, sunny skies.

'We're in th' eye of it now,' I heard Duban shout.

It should've been a calm summer sea, fit for dabbling with a lover in a canoe from the blue sky and bright sun. But it was a maelstrom, as waves battered us from all directions, and the wind whipped through all points of the compass. A flock of gulls were hurled past by the wind and then were gone.

I saw the Konyan galley once more, rolling and pitching in the seas. Just ahead were the rearing reefs and rocks I knew to be the Giants' Dice. The current was pulling both of us down to doom. Huge rocks, reefs and stacks jutted from the tossing ocean. Nowhere was there a bit of green or even brown earth to be seen, nothing but bare stone.

Duban and Stryker shouted for all hands, and the oars were manned, the oarsmen lashed to their benches. Gamelan wanted to come on deck, but I refused to let him, and told Dica to make sure he stayed below. Even with eyes it was all too easy to let your attention slip and the sea take you. Gamelan grumbled, but obeyed.

Somehow, the mainmast and yard were hoisted, and a small amount of canvas unfurled. It was enough to give us way against the current, and slowly we beat our track out of harm's way.

But there was no salvation for the Konyan ship. It was carried relentlessly towards its fate. Of all the islets and reefs that made up the Giants' Dice, the ones the galley was being drawn to must've been the deadliest. Sheer pillars stuck straight up, curved across the ocean like a cupped hand, or better, fangs set in open jaws. There were spaces between these rocks, but certainly not wide enough for even the most skilled captain to pilot a ship through in calm seas. We saw no sign of the three escort vessels, either then or ever, and I guess they must've been driven down in the storm.

Even through the spume-thick air, I could see Konyan sailors on the decks of the galley, trying to jury-rig some sort of storm sail on the mast-stub. Brown canvas showed, and I felt a bit of hope, but seconds later the wind ripped it away. The galley's oars were manned, but it looked as if the oarsmen were panicked, each oar sweeping to its own rhythm. The ship pitched sideways, nearly broaching, nearly smashing against a rock as large as it was, but it cleared, brushing past but smashing all of the oars on that side like toothpicks. Now the Konyan ship was completely out of control.

Polillo, her seasickness forgotten, was beside me. 'What can we do?'

I didn't know.

'We can't just... let them die,' she said.

I looked to Stryker.

'Captain?'

He shook his head. 'If that bastard was smaller, and the seas calmer, and this gods-cursed current weren't runnin' at full ebb, maybe we could work closer, pass them a line and try to tow them out. But... hell! There's nothing!' His eyes moved past me, onto the ship. Now it was very close to the rocks. 'Anchor it, you stupid bastards! Get some iron down!'

It was as if they heard, because I saw tiny figures fighting to derrick out the only anchor I could see that was still on the ship. It dropped, and line ran out, and I had a few seconds to pray for these unknowns before it came taut. The current paid no mind to man's thread, sending the galley closer to destruction, and I saw the ship give a jerk as the anchor line snapped and whipped across the ship's deck.

Then the galley struck. A wave lifted it, and sent it slamming towards that semicircle of rocky teeth. But there were other rocks before them, and the Konyan ship smashed down. They must've been just below the waterline, because when the wave receded the ship sat stranded, almost completely out of water, and I could see its bottom planking and ram up forward, carved like some fabulous beast. Then the seas swirled up and over its main-deck.

'She won't hang there long,' Stryker said. 'That blasted ram'll break her back in a few minutes.'

I looked at him, and he stared at me. He began to say something once, then again, then shook his head from side to side.

On the galley, someone saw us, and then I saw faces turning, and arms waving frantically, pleading for something, anything.

'If you can get enough sailors to man the boat, I'll try to take it in,' I said.

'Not a chance,' Stryker said. 'Not in these seas.'

'What about through there?' I pointed to beyond the awful Curve of the rocks. The current swept around them on either side and on, and it looked to me as if there were smooth water, just as a gale splits around a wall, and there's calm in its lee. 'If we take the galley downwind, then back up, couldn't we put a boat through the teeth and come up from the rear?'

Duban was listening. 'I'd sure not be the one to coxswain in it! And damned if I'll order any of my men out, either.'

Stryker turned and looked at Duban. The ex-rowing master shifted his gaze. Maybe that was what made up Stryker's mind, because he turned back to me and nodded.

'You're right. We gots to do somethin'. Else the sea gods sniff our fear, 'n mark their slates fer us to share th' same fate. 'Sides,' he added, 'there might be somebody aboard who'll pay red gold to a lifesaver, or a family who'll be grateful for a body recovered and given proper burial. Master Duban, we'll do as she wants!'

Of course there wasn't any way the mercenary sailor would permit anyone to think he was capable of feeling another's pain, or of doing good without gain. Even now, I remember that, and hope the gods give him a moment of respite from whatever horrors his sins have sent him to.

Duban scowled, but shouted orders. Oars swept, and we inched our way past the reefs. Arms waved once more on the Konyan ship, but this time in rage. I fancied I could hear screams that we were abandoning them, but that would've been impossible over the wind's roar.

We sailed free of the rocks' embrace and let the current take us past them, Then we rowed up by main force to their rear. I'd been right -there were still tremendous swells, but it was far calmer than before. Not that I had much time to look -1 was busy sorcelling water into oil and pitching it overside again. Stryker shouted for me when we were in position.

There was a knot of crewmen below the quarterdeck. Stryker called for volunteers for the boat. No one moved. I hadn't really expected any. But then the second surprise came. That skeleton-looking villain with the dagger-chin who was Santh's partner scowled, said, 'Shit!', spat on the deck, rubbed it out with a bare heel and stepped out, saying nothing more.

'You'll have your rating back, Fyn,' Stryker said, which was when I learned his name.

'Hell I will,' the skeleton growled. 'I don't need nothin' from you, Cap'n.' He turned around, ran his eyes over the other seamen, and spat out six names, including Santh's. 'Least I can do is drown wi' drinkin' partners,' he said. 'An' least you cocks know how to pull an oar.' He looked over at a longboat. 'We'll need four, no eight empty water casks. Lash four of'em under the thwarts, so as we don't sink when you frogspawn go'n stove th' plankin' against th' rocks. Tie th' other four up in hammocks, an run a hunnerd yards a' line out t' use f r floats. One cask fulla water, dry rations for two days, case we get swept out t' sea an' you dicks sit wi' your thumbs up your arse before rescuin' us, an' a pair of spare oars.'

He looked at me. 'We gonna have any of the bitches along? I could use four, ones that got some heft to 'em an' mebbe can swim, when we go over.'

'You'll have them,' I said, not taking offence - Fyn was a complete bastard, without question. I turned to the women on deck. ‘Volunteers?'

Of course all of the Guard stepped forward. I didn't bother looking to see if any of Stryker's men had the grace to appear ashamed - no doubt they felt we'd proved the point that no woman should ever be allowed aboard ship, if for no other reason than they were total fools. I chose four - Cliges once more, then Locris the archer, and was about to name Dacis the slinger, who was even brawnier than Cliges, when I saw the look in Polillo's eyes. Again, I weakened, knowing it was utterly foolish to allow two officers out onto those seas.

All this takes longer to tell you about, Scribe, than it did to happen, and the boat was ready. We boarded, the boat was swung out and the falls manned. I sat in the sternsheets with Fyn. He calculated the swells, then snapped, 'Awright!' and that was the inspirational cry we heard as the boat dropped into the storm-ripped seas.

The minute we splashed down oars came out, and the men pulled frantically away from the side of our ship. Our home was now a death-trap, as dangerous to close on as any of the rocks we pulled towards. It was very different being in the boat - we couldn't see very far, not much farther than the next wave, and our boat rose and fell alarmingly, or so it must've looked from our ship. But down here the sun glared and the tossing sent us from side to side, but it was almost pleasant.

I found a grin on my face, and Fyn noted it. 'Wanted you 'cause you got magic on your bones. Prolly you'll end up dragged down by a demon f'r black wizardry, but not drownded, so you'll be our luck,' he said, and spat overside, Evidently the way he put a period to any sentence.

We couldn't see the Konyan galley at first, our view blocked by that rock-ring ahead. The seas crashed and rose around their bases, and my idea looked utterly foolish. Fyn appeared unperturbed. 'Lift oars ... awright, on my count... pull! Pull! Pull!' and we shot between two rocks as if we were in a canoe pulling past bridge pilings in a summer race on a river.

We spun crazily on the other side, in a rip of currents. Now I saw the Konyan ship, and swore. It was actually bending, bowing in the middle as the rocks and the waves and the weight of that ram forward twisted the ship's keel. Waves were washing over the decks, and those up-tilted roofs of the cabins were splintered and torn. The hulk moved on the rocks where it lay embedded, and I heard the scream of timbers over the wind.

But I could still see life crawling over the decks and clinging to spars and rails. There was wreckage in the waves around the ship, and I could see bodies thrown up as well. I heard a great ripping, and the galley split in two. Instantly the bows were torn off the reef they'd been impaled on, and swept spinning against one of the sheer stacks, splintering into fragments.

Only the stern was left, hanging precariously on the reef, but still with sailors clinging to it.

'We'll take off what we can,' Fyn ordered, and we pulled closer.

They saw us, and again people were waving, shouting, pleading, although we couldn't hear anything. Somebody jumped on a railing, poised, and even as we signalled frantically, jumped into the surf. I saw his head appear, his arms flail, and then he sank and I never saw him again.

'Gods-damned fool!' Fyn snarled. 'We'll go in close, an' then they can jump, or mebbe slide down ropes. We'll float the casks down to 'em... Pity there ain't no ladders aboard,' he said, and his voice was as calm as if he were tale-telling in a wharfside bar. 'Ladders 'bout th' best thing t' pass through breakers an' all.'

I wondered where the Konyan ship's own boats were. I didn't see any at first, and guessed either they'd been lowered when the ship first hit the rocks, or else had been swept away earlier in the typhoon. Then I saw one, dangling from far aft. It dangled into the water, still hanging from one fall.

Now we were very close, and I could make out faces. I don't know how many were left aboard the ship. Ten, twenty, maybe thirty. But each time a wave smashed over the ship, I saw fewer. I managed to stand, braced against Polillo's back, cupped my hands, and shouted, 'Now! Now!' and swept my arms towards the boat.

First one sailor, then another went overside. Some tossed wooden pallets into the water for rafts, others had what looked like small buoys, and others just jumped, hoping they could swim to the boat or else they'd find some floating flotsam to cling to until we pulled to them.

Polillo hurled one of the empty casks far out, almost landing it against the galley's hull, and the rope between the cask and the boat was to be a lifeline. The other three followed. I felt a savage wave of exultation. The damned sea might have taken the ship, and many lives with it, but, by Maranonia, we weren't standing by and watching it happen, and the gods were blessing us, helping us save at least a few. The hulk grated again on the rocks, and I knew it'd be washed off into deep water in seconds. We were very close - it loomed almost above us. I glanced up, and thought the last man had jumped, and the wreck was completely abandoned.

Then I saw her. I don't know how I knew it was a woman - it could've just as easily been a very long-haired man. But I knew. She was dressed completely in white, and her soaked garments draped her body. It was good that it was warm, or else she would've frozen in seconds. The woman had come from the ruins of the deckhouse, and now stood near the rail, holding onto it, looking about. She seemed not to see us. It looked as if she were in shock, or perhaps she'd been injured.

We shouted, we screamed, but for the longest time she took no notice. Then she looked down, and spotted our boat. I swear I saw her smile. Moving very slowly, very deliberately, she climbed to the top of the railing, poised as if she were making an exhibition dive into a favourite swimming place, and then the wind caught her clothing and sent her tumbling out, spinning crazily before she struck the water and sank.

Without thought, without decision, I flat-dove into the roiling current. I came up, swimming strongly to where I'd seen her go under, feeling the current try to take me and smash me against the rocks so close, so deadly. Salt stung my eyes, but I could still see most clearly, see the brown and black and grey of the rocks so close, see the looming overhang of the galley's barnacle-dotted bottom, and then I spotted a swirl of white.

It was on the surface but a moment, then disappeared as the woman went under again, and I vee'd my body down at the waist and kicked under, stroking down, down, hands reaching, and I felt cloth, silk, in my fingers, and I clutched it and pulled it to me, and I could feel arms flailing weakly, and then I was kicking for the surface.

We broke water, and I gasped air even as I was pushing her arms away, arms that were trying to drag me back down, and I had a tight grip around her neck and under her arm, forcing her onto her back, and I was swimming hard, lungs pounding, and then I felt strong arms, arms that could only be Polillo's, grab me and lift me and the one I'd saved from the deadly seas.

Sixteen

Princess Xia

The next thing I remember is staring up at Corais's dark, sardonic face. She was trying to hold up my head with one hand, while juggling a tumbler with the other. The cabin smelled like a dirty tavern floor.

'Quit fighting me, Captain,' she said. 'You're spilling good brandy.'

I realized I was struggling and stopped. I opened my lips and obediently gulped the contents of the tumbler. The brandy flared in my gut and the fumes swirled up to clear my head.

'Thanks,' I gasped. 'I'm feeling like a new woman already ... I think.'

I plucked at the front of my sleeping tunic, which was sopping with the brandy I'd spilled. My breasts were sticky with the stuff. 'Looks like I'm leaking spirits instead of milk,' I laughed. 'If so, I'm certain to cause a fuss with the Wet Nurse's Guild.'

Corais chortled. 'First time I've had to force drink on you, Captain. Have you given the stuff up, perchance? Now that you're on a higher plane than the rest of us, cavorting with wizards and all?'

'Watch your manners,' I mock-snarled. 'Gamelan's halfway through a lesson on turning sharp-tongued legates into the afterbirth of a shrew.'

'As long as it's Legate Afterbirth, that's fine with me,' Corais replied, filling the tumbler again.

Outside, calmness reigned. A peaceful sun peeped through the cabin door; the smell of balmy seas wafted in after it. Memory flooded back and I shot up.

'What happened to them—' I was cut off in mid-panic as Corais pressed the tumbler against my lips.

'Everything's been taken care of,' she soothed. 'Now, drink. Those are Lord Gamelan's orders. Two brandies, sweetened with some sort of wit restorer he had Ismet grind up.'

I drank. While I sipped the elixir she filled me in. She said the orders I'd spewed when I'd been hauled back to our ship had been carried out. I didn't remember issuing any orders -I recalled nothing beyond Polillo's cold, wet embrace - but I didn't mention this to Corais; she'd only use it as fuel for her sarcasms. She told me we'd ridden out the storm without further incident and it appeared our losses were minimal. We'd rescued thirteen Konyans in all, several of whom had suffered minor injuries. They and the others were being well cared for.

'Once again,' she said, 'you've proven you may not be the best commander the Maranon Guard has ever had, but you certainly are the luckiest!’

'I'll discuss my leadership merits with you later,' I growled, barely suppressing a laugh. Corais's sharp humour was a refreshing reminder that we'd all come up together. We'd taken the same drubbing on the practice field; suffered under the same foul-mouthed drill instructors; and performed the same senseless duties ordered by less than enlightened superiors. In short, we were sisters of a time, as well as the sword.

'So that's how it's going to be,' Corais fired back. 'The bad news later, the good news now. Very well, Oh Great Captain Antero, beautiful as she is wise, wise as she is—'

'Stuff a dirty loincloth in it, Legate,' I said. 'Tell me about the good luck.'

'Why, you've rescued a princess, Captain,' she said. 'A Konyan princess to boot.'

I gawked. 'You mean that woman ...'

Corais nodded. 'That's right. That sweet young thing you fished out of the brine is as royal as a tavern keeper's behind the day before pay day. She is none other than the Princess Xia, daughter of one of the members of Konya's ruling council! Why, when we sail into their waters, we'll be heroes! They'll give us anything we want!'

I looked into the empty tumbler. Whatever Gamelan had laced the brandy with was doing a better job of wit-sharpening than I liked just now. Where Corais saw luck, I saw glimmerings of trouble. Exactly what the trouble might be, I wasn't certain. I hid my doubts from Corais. No sense spoiling someone else's good mood with my cynical second-guessing.

'May the gods be smitten with your every word, Corais,' I said. I swung out onto my feet. 'I'd better see to our royal catch before the day grows much longer.'

I stripped off the brandy-soaked tunic and began to wash up, mentally upgrading my intended dress to something more fitting to greet a princess.

'One other thing, Captain,' Corais said. 'Cholla Yi's flagman has been flapping away like a constipated gull all morning. The admiral wants a meeting. Urgently.'

'And he shall have it,' I said. 'Send him my compliments, and say I'd be pleased if he would attend me within the hour.'

Corais hurried off. I paused in my washing to examine myself in the mirror. It had been a long time since I had consulted it. Our adventures thus far might have been hard on my nerves, but they'd done nothing to injure my looks. My skin glowed with dark health, my hair was bleached nearly white by the sun, but was softer and more manageable than at any time in my life, and my figure was as tight as hard exercise could make it. My cheekbones seemed set higher, the cheeks themselves pinched deeper into shadow, and the whole effect was one that made even my lips appear fuller than before. My eyes were clear blue, with small tight lines of authority fanning out that I had to admit were not unattractive, and only added seasoning.

If you think it was vanity that made me take stock, Scribe, you're mistaken. Ever since I'd accepted Gamelan's tutelage, I'd remembered with some dread my brother's description of the effect the intense practice of magic had on Janos Greycloak. Amalric said Janos's body had been ravaged by it and he'd visibly aged many years. To be certain, Amalric had been speaking of Greycloak's obsession with black magic, but that had done little to allay my fears. So it was with more relief than satisfaction that I took inventory.

Very well, I'll admit one bit of vanity - my skin, which I've always thought my best feature. As I said, it positively glowed, which pleased me to no end. And I thought: Nothing like a little power to put a blush in a woman's cheeks.

I daubed myself with my favourite orange blossom perfume and donned my best dress uniform. I strapped on my sword, pinned on a gold brooch of rank and hooked my spear-and-torch earrings into my lobes. I gave the mirror one last look, feeling a bit like a child playing dressing-up.

'They'll never know, Rali,' I assured myself, and went off to meet the princess.

The ship's carpenter - a miracle-worker in his own right - had conjured enough space next to Gamelan's cabin to create comfortable, if minuscule, quarters for her. At the door I raised my hand to knock, but paused when I heard voices.

The first cackled like an old, scolding hen: 'Come, come, my lady. I know you despise the taste of spirits, but you really must drink this. That old wizard may be blind, bless his soul, but he knows how to brew a nice restorer. My dear departed granny couldn't have done better herself, and she was a favourite of all the great ladies in her time when they felt frail.'

The answering voice was young, and remarkably sweet: 'Oh, very well, Aztarte. Not that I need it. I'm only a little tired. But you'll nag me without mercy if I don't.'

There was a rustling, sounds of dainty gulping, and then a gasp. 'Oh, dear. That's strong enough to take one's breath away. But not so awful as I feared.' More rustling and gulping as she drank more. 'Mmm. That's almost quite good. The taste improves the more you take. And I must say, the day looks cheerier already. I believe I'll change my view of spirited drink. It's obvious I've only been offered brandy of lesser quality before.'

'You see, Princess Xia,' the crone admonished, 'you should listen to your poor Aztarte. I only want what's best for you. And hasn't that always been the case since the day your dear mother, bless her bones, had me brought from the village to nurse you?'

The princess giggled. It had a marvellous tone, like a lyre. 'And to this day you still think I'm that infant you cuddled,' she said. 'Did you say that wizard prescribed two tumblers of his elixir? I'm quite looking forward to the other.'

Sounds of liquid pouring and drinking. Then: 'Tell me, Aztarte, whom do I have to thank for our good fortune? We'd be at the bottom of the sea with the others - poor things - if these very brave people hadn't risked their lives.'

'It was Captain Antero who ordered the rescue,' the crone said. 'And it was Captain Antero who personally saved you.'

'A captain?' the princess asked, sounding puzzled. 'I distinctly recall that it was a woman who fished me out! I thought it odd at the time, but I was drowning, you see, so I didn't question her too closely.' Her voice dropped a note, sounding disappointed.

'Oh, well. I can see now that such a thing is not possible. Perhaps I dreamed her. It was such a wondrous dream, Aztarte. She was simply the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her arms and legs so shapely, but muscular as well. Her hair streaming behind her like the mane of a golden horse fairly flying through the seas. A most remarkable vision, you must admit. But, alas, it seems it was only that ... a dream. What a world it would be if women such as us could aspire to such brave actions.'

'But, my lady,' the crone broke in. 'That was no—' I knocked, cutting her off.

Silence, then Xia said: 'You may enter.'

I did, bowing low as I cleared the door. 'Captain Antero, Your Highness,' I said. 'At your service.'

Princess Xia was agog, staring up at me from her pillows quite speechless. I was stricken dumb for a moment myself. She was exquisite - dark as Corais and as slender, but even in bed I could see she was nearly as tall as me. She wore a borrowed rough white robe, but with her regal bearing it seemed a much richer garment. Her hair fell in long black waves that glistened where the light struck the brightest. Her eyes were wide pools of blackness, bubbling with all the energy and youth of someone eighteen summers old. Dark brows arched over those eyes, setting off high cheekbones and a patrician nose. Her lips were naturally rose-coloured, and perhaps a bit too full if you prefer the ice-maiden look over ripe sensuality.

Xia flushed prettily at my too-close inspection. Then she recovered and clapped her hands with glee. 'You see, Aztarte, I wasn't dreaming. It was a woman who rescued me.'

The grey-head who was her servant shook her head at this, setting many dowager's chins in motion. 'But I've been trying to tell you, Your Highness ... Captain Antero is a woman. A woman soldier, bless her heart. Thank the gods she came along when she did, instead of those pirates I see in this crew. Why our virtue wouldn't last a second with the likes of them.'

The princess leaped to her feet and in her excitement her robe fell open and I was treated to a glimpse of high full breasts with nipples like fresh berries, and the pink tender lips of her sex, which was plucked as smooth as a young girl's. I thought for a moment she was going to hug me, then she blushed again when she saw my hungry look, and pulled the robe closed. But not that tight, I noted.

Then she said, quite formally: 'I owe you my life, Captain Antero. And more importantly I owe you the lives of twelve of my countrymen, including Aztarte, who is dearer to me than any other - except for my father, of course.'

Aztarte smacked her gums loudly in pleasure at this. 'You're too kind, Princess.' Then she looked at me, her brown eyes startlingly young in such an old face. 'But I must tell you, Captain, I thought I was done for when that big soldier of yours - Polillo, I think her name be - grabbed me by the hair and hoisted me up like I was a flounder that just took the bait.'

I bowed low again. 'We did nothing more than any civilized person would do,' I said. 'If we had been in such a fix, your people would have done the same.'

'I'm not so certain of that, Captain,' Xia said. ‘We are a suspicious people and you appear to be strangers.'

'That we are, my lady,' I said. 'Our leaders sent us on a vital mission, which we accomplished, but in the process we became lost. When we met, I was sailing to your land to beg for assistance in finding our way home.'

Princess Xia laughed. It was a most delightful sound. 'And you shall have it,' she said. 'I'll speak to my father - Lord Kanara. I promise you he'll be happy to use his influence. After all, you've just rescued his only child.'

I was about to thank her, when a knock came on the door. It was Corais.

'Excuse me, Captain,' she said. 'The admiral's boat is on the way.' As she spoke, her eyes were moving to the princess, then to me, then back to the princess again.

'I'll be with you in a minute, Legate,' I said, and Corais shot me a salute - it was quite crisp, and meant, I'm sure, to impress Xia with my importance. Then she ducked out again.

'If you'll forgive me, Princess,' I said. 'Duty calls.'

Her look was not quite as bright as before. 'Of course,' she said, ‘you must attend to your admiral.'

I laughed. 'Actually, my lady,' I said, 'he's attending to me. In this fleet the admiral takes my orders.'

Xia glowed. 'Fancy that,' she said. 'A woman in command! We must speak again soon, Captain.'

She extended her hand. I bowed over it, brushing her soft flesh with my lips. She shivered. I rose, troubled by the heat rising in mei and made a stiff farewell.

Cholla Yi was pacing my cabin. I'd had my bunkmates clear away their gear and ordered a table and chairs brought in along with a few refreshments. Besides his angry pacing, the first thing I noted was he was alone. Which meant he didn't want witnesses to our conversation.

He whirled to confront me. 'You've landed us into a mess of trouble, Captain Antero,' he snapped. 'And if we don't act fast we're all doomed for a flaying, or worse.'

I was rocked by his accusation. 'What have I done?'

'Saved those Konyan bastards is what you've done.' he said. 'I'll be the first to admit it was a brave act, but it was also a damned foolish one.'

'Since when has rescuing people been foolish?' I asked. 'I thought it was one of the unwritten laws of the sea to come to the aid of your fellow mariner.'

'Your seas, maybe,' he said. 'Not mine. And especially not these waters.'

I had no immediate reply -I had an inkling of what was troubling him. Cholla Yi looked at me, then he let his anger whoosh out in a long breath and got himself under control.

'Look, Captain, we've been through a lot together. I still don't like you much - I'm honest enough to admit that. And I expect the feeling's mutual. But I've got a lot of respect for you now that I've seen you in action. However, we've got a big problem here, and me pointing fingers is no help and I'm sorry for that. We haven't had time to talk since that Sarzana business, and that's the root of our trouble.'

The germ of worry that I'd had since Corais had awakened me became a full-blown plague. As full understanding hit me, I sank into a chair and poured us both tumblers of strong wine. Cholla Yi nodded when he saw my look of realization and sat across from me. We both emptied the tumblers and refilled them.

'The way I see it,' Cholla Yi finally said, 'is everything The Sarzana told us was a lie. Not only that, the opposite of everything he said was the real truth. He was a right bastard, he was, and the Konyans hated him for it. They couldn't kill him - because of the curse. That was truth. Any Konyan who kills the leader is doomed. So they did the next best thing, which was to stick him on an island. Then they gathered up every wizard and witch in the kingdom and cast a spell on that island so strong that he could never escape.'

'And then we came along,' I said, 'and freed him. But it wasn't our fault! With Gamelan out of action, how were we to know The Sarzana pulled the magical fleece over our eyes?'

'You think the old wizard would've picked up on it?' Cholla Yi asked.

'Of course he would,' I said. 'That may have been one mountain of a blissfulness spell The Sarzana smothered us with, but it would have been nothing to Lord Gamelan before he was hurt. As Captain Stryker commented before, I belatedly sensed it myself, but my talents are too new to stand up to an experienced wizard like The Sarzana. Regardless, that's past. We were fooled, but by powerful magic. There's no shame in that.'

'I don't give a pisshole about shame,' Cholla Yi said. 'Getting rich and dying old is all I care about. And right now, you can keep the coin, because I don't see much hope of growing a grey beard if word ofwhat happened leaks out to the wrong people.'

'Which brings us back to the Konyans we rescued,' I said.

'Which brings us back to the Konyans, Cholla Yi agreed. 'Before they came along, we were going to bluff it out. Slip into a port in a hurry, boast about how important we were in Orissa, then cozen some help out of them and get the blazes out before they learned we were the ones who set that devil loose. But the plan - weak as it was - is wrecked now that you rescued those people.

'You can't keep secrets in a fleet. We all live too close. The Konyans will find out and soon as we drop anchor at one of their ports, they'll let the rat out of the barrel. And then we're done for. Looking at it from their lights, we deserve the worst that can be handed out.'

'Maybe The Sarzana drowned,' I said, knowing it was a weak prayer. 'That was a pretty small boat he escaped in.'

Cholla Yi shook his head. 'He's too mean to drown,' he said. 'The fish would spit him back. No, my guess is that as we speak he's hauling into his home port and rousing the rabble to his cause.'

'We did rescue a Konyan princess,' I said. 'That should count for something!'

'Okay, so they don't gouge out our eyes after they flay us,' Cholla Yi said. ‘Which is about all that’s going to produce.'

I lapsed into silence, drinking my wine as I pounded at mental doors for a way out

'There's only one course I can see,' Cholla Yi said.

'What's that?'

Cholla Yi shrugged. 'Toss them back. They drown, just like they would have in the storm. And we sail innocently into Isolde and make our plea. No one will be the wiser, as long as we keep the mouths of the crew shut tight.'

I shook my head. 'I won't do that,' I said.

Cholla Yi went from reasonableness to instant fury. 'By the gods, I'll drown them myself, if you don't have the stomach for it'

'I don't make war on civilians,' I said. 'These people have done nothing to harm us.'

'But they would have been dead anyway, if you hadn't interfered,' Cholla Yi shouted. His hand hovered over his sword. I came up, kicking the chair back and out of the way.

'But I did. And that's that. As long as I command here, they will not be touched.'

Cholla Yi looked as if he were about to draw his sword and have at it. I was more than ready to accommodate him. Then he fought for control again and won. I heard leather harness creak and shot a look over my shoulder to see Polillo's bulk filling the door. Just behind her was Corais. Our argument had been so hot and loud they'd come running to see if I needed help. I didn't. On the other hand, killing Cholla Yi was no solution. I'd only have a mutiny of his men for a reward.

'We shouldn't fight amongst ourselves,' Cholla Yi said. 'Perhaps there's another way. I'll return to my ship and think on it.'

'I'll rack my own brains,' I said.

'Shall we confer again tomorrow, Captain?' Cholla Yi said, cold and formal. 'If you please, Admiral,' I replied.

After he left, I looked at my two legates. 'How much did you hear?' I asked.

'Enough to know we're in for it,' Polillo said.

'Half die ship knows now, Captain,' Corais said. 'You two weren't exactly speaking in whispers.'

'There has to be some way out of this,' I said. 'Let's go and talk to Lord Gamelan.'

Some hours later, after attacking the problem from every angle we could think of, even the wizard admitted defeat.

There's a spell I know of that causes forgetfulness,' he said, 'but it's quite unreliable and dangerous as well. If it went wrong, it would be more merciful to simply kill them. Besides, I don't think it would be within your powers as yet, Captain Antero.'

'But you all agree with me that it would be wrong to harm these people?' I asked.

That would be a cowardly act, Captain,' Polillo growled. 'I'm more than willing to spill blood, as you all know. But I won't be a party to injuring innocents.'

'I had my fill of that kind of fighting on the streets of Lycanth,' Corais said, shuddering at the memory of the civilians who were hurled against us by the Archons.

I looked at Gamelan. As if sensing my gaze he shook his head. 'I have enough to account for on the other side when the Seeker comes for me,' he said. 'My vote is no.'

'The only path I can see,' I said, 'is to confess our error to the princess and pray to the gods that she'll not only forgive us, but champion us.'

No one could see any other course, so I sent for her. When she entered, the room lit with her presence. She wore a short, borrowed tunic that displayed her long legs, and hugged her narrow waist and high breasts. When she looked at me her eyes were full of admiration. I hated to kill that look. But I did.

They widened in shock when I told her about our encounter with The Sarzana, then they hardened into dark mirrors when I revealed what we had done.

'I wish you had never rescued us,' Xia said. 'I'd rather be dead than witness what is going to happen to my people with The Sarzana loosed.'

'At least they will have warning,' Gamelan said.

Xia made a bitter laugh. When she spoke, her words were much beyond her eighteen summers. 'You cannot realize the full extent of what you have done,' she said. 'The Sarzana is the most evil man in all our history. He enslaved us, he robbed us of all dignity. Whole seas of blood flowed from our islands while he reigned. It was a miracle, a once-in-a-lifetime blessing from the gods that we were able to rid ourselves of him.

'He will not be so easy to defeat again. In fact, it may not even be possible. He is a wizard of tremendous powers and is certain to have been planning when he was in exile all those years. And only awaiting the day when he would be freed by fools such as you.'

She looked at me, angry tears coursing down her cheeks. 'When I told you my father would be grateful to you for rescuing me, his only child, I did not explain that I was his only surviving child. I once had four older brothers. They were slaughtered by The Sarzana during his purges.'

Xia wiped her eyes, and composed herself. Her features became cold, distant. 'My family, you see, is cursed with royal blood. Through my mother, who died when I was a child, we spring from an ancient line of Konyan monarchs. The Sarzana slew all the male children of every family with royal ancestors.'

Her head fell and she wept again. There was nothing I could say. Sorry seemed such a mewling word. The weeping stopped and the princess raised her head. I saw puzzlement in her eyes.

'Why did you tell me?' she asked. 'Now that I know... it isn't safe for you.'

I told her about Cholla Yi, studying her closely as I did. I saw no fear, even when I explained that although I commanded the fleet, Cholla Yi and his pirates held the upper hand in numbers.

'Are your women better warriors?' she asked.

I said they were, but it would be a mistake to underestimate the admiral's men. They were good fighters, fearless fighters, with much experience in slaughter.

'And you still refused him?' she asked.

'Yes.'

'Why?' she pressed.

I answered, but with difficulty. 'I am a soldier. But above that, I command the Maranon Guard. We are sworn to protect hearth and home. It has been thus for hundreds of years. All of us here would rather suffer the most humiliating of deaths than defile that tradition.'

The princess thought a moment, and once again I marvelled that one so young could display such depths. Then she said: 'I will help you... if I can. There is a small, lightly populated place near Isolde, which is my home and the chief island in die Konyas. Drop me and my kinsmen there secretly at night and then wait. I will talk to my father and explain you were as much of a victim of The Sarzana as we have been.'

'Do you think he'll listen?'

Xia shrugged. 'I don't know. And even if he does, he is only one of nine Lords who make up the Council of Purity that rules us.'

She made a face when she named the council, as if she found the group distasteful. 'I don't know what they'll say. If they agree, I'll send word to you. If they don't, then you must flee. Sail as far and as fast as you can. And although you have harmed me and my people most dreadfully, the gods forgive, I pray that you will someday find yourselves safe and at home again.'

It was a generous offer and we accepted.

'What will the admiral say?' the princess asked.

'I don't know,' I said. 'But I'll do my best to persuade him.'

'And if he refuses?'

I looked at my companions. They nodded, firm. 'Then we fight,' I answered.

The next day came too soon. I slept little, but arose early to prepare. I passed the word to my troops to be ready for the worst, but to be quiet about their preparations.

Gamelan and I took a morning stroll. The atmosphere among the crew was so chilly and the looks so hateful that even the blind wizard could sense the trouble brewing. Captain Stryker stayed well clear of us, and I could tell he had communicated with Cholla Yi, because rather than urging the crew to work with a will, he passed among them, pausing to speak low and casting quick glances in my direction. Gamelan kept a smile on his face as if nothing were amiss, but all the while he whispered instructions to me, filling my head with an arsenal of small, defensive spells.

Two hours before the sun reached its highest point, Cholla Yi sent word that he was coming. I waited on the deck, and saw several boats leave the admiral's ship. They were all bristling with armed men. Cholla Yi did not make the mistake of trying to board with all of them. Ordering the others to stand off, his boat skimmed up to us and he swarmed aboard, followed by several of his key officers.

He strode towards me along an isle created by crewmen on one side, and my troops on the other. He stopped within sword range, his hair freshly greased and bristling.

'Well, Captain Antero,' he said, 'have you considered my words of yesterday?'

That I have, Admiral,' I said. 'And I've spoken to Princess Xia as well and she has pledged to assist us.'

Cholla Yi goggled at me, then threw back his head and laughed. 'You take the word of a girl? You're an even greater fool than I thought.'

Some of the crew barked harsh laughter. In return, my women cursed them under their breath.

I smiled at Cholla Yi, and raised an eyebrow at his crew's behaviour, as if to say, at least I do not command rabble.

'Perhaps lama fool,' I said. 'But I'm not so foolish that I'll stop my ears to whatever it is you have to say. When you departed yesterday, you pledged to think of some alternative.'

'And I have done so,' Cholla Yi said.

'You have a plan that will spare the lives of the Konyans?' I asked.

'Indeed I do,' he said. 'I propose we find an island. Something out of the way, so no one will ever find them. We'll maroon them there, with all the food and water we can spare and then sail to Kbnya as if nothing had happened. Then we proceed with our plan to seek help, and once that is granted, we sail for home.' He rolled back on the bails of his feet. 'What do you think of that, Captain?'

I shook my head. 'It would be kinder to kill them than to abandon them to starvation, or worse,' I said. 'I'm sorry, Admiral, but that's not a satisfactory solution.'

Cholla Yi's face purpled with anger. His hand dropped to his sword.

'You would rather fight me, then?' he shouted. His men growled like dogs ready to be loosed.

'I'd rather settle this peaceably,' I said. 'But, failing that, I'll fight.'

'All I have to do is give the signal,' Cholla Yi said, 'and the whole fleet will be on you.'

Blood sang in my ears. I laughed at him. 'Not the whole fleet, my friend. My troops are with me. And some of your own men as well, I'll wager. But, if it's steel you have a taste for, have at it.'

Our swords flashed out, and all over the ship I heard fighting metal rasp its greeting to the day.

But the lookout barked alarm and we all froze as his warning was echoed from every mast in our fleet. We turned to see a mighty warship bearing down on us. Its decks were black with soldiers and in the heights of its forest of masts and sails were scores of archers, bows bent and ready to fire. There were more cries from our lookouts and we swivelled to find yet another huge ship, then another and another until we were entirely surrounded.

I shouted orders to my troops and they turned to face the new enemy. Cholla Yi thundered commands to his men and they did the same.

He stepped up beside me, a grin twisting his lips. 'Funny how quickly the game changes,' he said, 'when you're playing dice with death.'

Princess Xia sprinted out of her cabin. 'They're Konyan ships,' she cried. 'My people!'

Cholla Yi made way as she came up to us, his pirate's wit quickly sniffing out a small hope of survival.

'Let me speak to them,' she said. 'I'll tell them you rescued us. I won't say a word about The Sarzana. I'll feel like a traitor, but as my father says, sometimes honour requires a lie.'

I looked at Cholla Yi. 'We don't seem to have any other choice,' he said. 'At least not one that involves a chance at living.'

So we put down our arms and signalled the rest of our shipmates to surrender as well. A few minutes later Konyan soldiers were swarming on board. At their head was a tall, silver-haired man with the uniform and bearing of a commander. To our relief he instantly recognized Princess Xia and was quite surprised to see her with us.

'Your ladyship!' he exclaimed. 'Thank the gods you're safe.'

'I do thank the gods, Admiral Bhzana,' she said. 'I thank them for sending these strangers to my side. They saved our lives.'

Bhzana's features motded. 'You owe them curses, not thanks, Princess,' he barked. 'These scum freed The Sarzana. He's already mounted his first attacks. And I was sent out to hunt these dogs down!'

He motioned to his soldiers and they were on us, kicking and hammering us to the deck, despite cries of protest from Xia.

In minutes all of us were beaten into submission and chained. Actually, we were all too surprised to put up much of a struggle.

'How did they find out?' Cholla Yi muttered to me as they lined us up to be hurled into the waiting boats.

My mouth was too full of blood from the beating I'd taken to answer. Even if I could have, I was as bewildered as he.

I was thrown headlong into a boat, my knees and elbows taking all the shock, so it was a wonder nothing was broken. I looked up in time to see Gamelan being tossed over the side. I did my best to roll under him to soften his fall. It must've worked, because when he hit my ribs were nearly stove in and my breath whooshed out. I fought to draw in air and kept getting his beard in my mouth.

'Get off me, wizard,' I finally managed to grit out.

'Is that you, Rali?' he said. He rolled off me and I shuddered in a long breath. 'I feared they'd already killed you.'

'I think they're saving the honours for the torturers,' I said.

Gamelan nodded. 'I suppose so,' he said, remarkably mild. 'Still, we're alive. When you get to be my age you'll marvel at that simple fact when you awaken each morning. A good day is when you don't hurt someplace new.'

'Wizard,' I said.

'Yes, Rali?'

'If you please ... just shut up!'

Seventeen

The Dungeons of Konya

Isolde claims to be the most beautiful and gracious of all the hundreds of islands that make up the kingdom of Konya. Mythmakers say the islands were born from the gardens of the gods when a magical wind scattered flower seeds across the Western Ocean - and Isolde, they say, is the daughter of the loveliest flower of all. Konyans wax most lyrical in praising the charms of the island. Haunting farewells have been created, telling many a tale of Isolde heroes and lovers who've been forced from the land and struggle mightily to return. They sing of perfumed air, bees who make honey headier than any wine, birds whose voices rival the very lyres of the gods, and warm suns and balmy winds that forever bless those shores. Even the seas, whose bounty never ends, according to the balladeers, produce fish whose flesh is sweeter than any milk-fed calf that ever graced a royal table.

There was a fellow four dank cells down from mine who sang those songs whenever melancholy overtook him - which was frequently, since he was madder than a lead-maker's apprentice. After listening to him for more days than I care to number, I was ready to cut out his tongue. On really bad nights, as we listened to his warblings echo along the dungeon corridors, I would've traded a chance for freedom if they'd only let me wring his neck.

'It'll almost be a relief when the torturers come to get us,' I told Gamelan. 'There's nothing they can do that's worse than being forced to listen to that son of a poxed alley whore.'

‘I must admit,' Gamelan said, 'when we were first shown to our... guest quarters... I thought his voice a delight. And I wondered what manner of men could these Konyans be to punish such talent. So, he was fool enough and drunk enough to compose a song comparing the Council of Purity to nine warts on a crone's behind. In civilized lands they make allowances for artists. We say the gods must, by necessity, leave out common sense from the holy clay they use to form such a person. But I've changed my view. If I ever get my powers back, the first thing I swear I'll do is turn that croaker into a fat toad whose curse it shall be to dwell among eternally hungry cranes who will slowly pick him to pieces each day, and shit him whole again on the morrow so he can make another meal for them.'

I brightened at the vision he painted and went back to sucking the marrow out of the rat bone I'd saved from the watery stew we'd cooked up the night before. Gamelan always had a way of cheering a woman up, no matter how low her circumstances.

Oddly enough, we owed our lives to the very man who'd put them in jeopardy - The Sarzana. He'd broken out of the Cevennes - the large island group that had the misfortune to be his birthplace - and with thousands of berserkers and a steadily growing fleet of warships, was laying waste to everything in his path.

'The Council of Purity is too bus)' to deal with the likes of you just now,' Admiral Bhzana had said as we were led away in chains. 'But do not fear - they will not forget you. When the time comes you will suffer most horribly for what you have done.'

The dungeon they put us in was carved out of a small mountain. The main city crawled up that mountain on crowded terraces that narrowed to a sharp pinnacle where the old, red-domed Palace of the Monarchs sat. The palace, we learned, housed the offices of the Council of Purity and their legion of clerks, tax collectors, wardens and petty officials. Over much time the city's sewers had leached through what soil can cling to those rocky slopes, and seeped between countless cracks and other deformities until the filth made its way to us in the form of ever-drizzling walls and ceilings.

A prisoner - who through stealth and a willingness to engage in any crime or obscenity had managed to live more than forty years in that odoriferous tomb - said the dungeon had been dug by the first men and women sentenced there. New populations had enlarged it to its present great size over the centuries.

'Mark my words, there'll be more rock crackin' soon,' he chortled. 'Al 'as happens like that wh'n there's a war on. Gotter make room, room, room for alia traitors that get sniffed out. They's th' good times for old Oolumph, they is. 'Cause wi' a traitor, you gots your families that's gotter be locked up's well. 'N old Oolumph gotter show 'em th' ropes, 'n fetch 'em treats, 'n do 'em all sorts of favours, he does. 'Course, I gets me price, but I sees it me duty to alia poor misfortunates what comes down here to get their bones stretched and skin took off.' He exposed stumps of rotted teeth. I suppose it was a smile. 'Last time things was this good, The Sarzana was runnin' things. Pickin's been slim since then. I s'pose old Oolumph's th' only feller in Konya what's got cause to thank you Orissans.'

Then he eyed my earrings speculatively. 'So, when th' time comes, Sister,' he said, 'I kin put in a word wit th' sergeant what runs th' rack. Price a one a those get yer neck snapped first go. Won't feel a thing a'ter that.'

I'd been alone in the heavily barred cell for four days by the time Oolumph had come scuttling along the corridor. The guttering torch he held was the first light I'd seen in all that time. I'd also been without food, and the only water I'd been brought was a rusty bucket with more scum than drink. The cell was bare, wet stone, with a hole cut in one corner for me to do my business. So, Oolumph was a welcome sight, indeed.

I didn't turn away from his ruined face, which looked like it had been melted on the bone. He wore filthy rags, but the cloth had once formed a fine garment, and his toes curled out of the rotted boots of a long-gone nobleman. Other than my weapons, I'd been allowed to keep whatever I had on me at the time of our surrender, including my jewellery and wide leather belt, which was studded with gold coins struck with Maranonia's face. Oolumph's watery red eyes travelled a slow path to that belt, starting with the earrings, then my breasts, skipping down to my feet and then lingering up my bare legs until the tunic hem blocked further view, and finally to the belt at my waist. I made no protest as he examined me, but only smiled so he'd believe I was no threat.

His eyes widened when he saw the belt and he forgot his foulest thoughts. I plucked a coin off the belt and held it high for him to see.

Licking his lips, he came closer to the bars. 'So, what kin old Oolumph do fer th' pretty lady?'

My other hand shot out and grabbed him by the hair. He howled in pain as I crushed his face through the bars. I bared my teeth and snarled: 'If old Oolumph wants to live to draw another breath of this filthy air, he'll mind his manners.'

'Sorry, your ladyship,' he groaned. 'So sorry. Please!'

I abruptly let loose and he nearly fell to the floor. He straightened as much as his rack-hunched spine would let him, watery red eyes simmering in that ruined mask. Before he could speak I tossed the coin through the bars. He snatched it from the air with the reflexes of a market thief. The anger turned to interest.

'Do I have your attention, now?' I said.

'Oh, yes indeedy yer does, your ladyship,' he said.

'That's Captain,' I corrected. 'Captain Antero, if you please.'

'Well, Cap'n Antero it is, then. Or, General, if yer like. Makes no never mind to th' likes a me.'

'To start with,' I said, 'I'm not too fond of these quarters.'

Oolumph nodded, eager. 'Better kin be had your -I mean, Cap'n.'

'I also want company,' I said. 'I have a friend. An old blind man. Goes by the name of Gamelan.'

More nods from Oolumph. 'I knows where they keeps him, I does,' he said.

'Then get about your business,' I said. 'I want quarters large enough for the two of us, and blankets, lots of blankets. Food, of course. And ...'

'Old Oolumph knows what th' Cap'n needs,' he broke in. He held up the coin. 'Yer needn't worry I'll cheat yer. This'll buy a lot. 'N I'll let's yer know when more'll be due.' He gave my belt another long look. 'From what I hears,' he said, 'you Orissans ain't long for this life. So that belt'll more'n last yer.' And he scuttled away.

I don't know how much time passed before the guards came. It was impossible to count the hours much less the days in that foul blackness. The new cell was a royal chamber compared to the last. It was fairly large, not quite so damp, and had two stone shelves on either side for beds. There was a musty straw mattress on each shelf, and - thanks be the gods - a large pile of mouldy blankets that were nearly vermin-free. And to add to these delights, there was even a supply of fuel to burn to keep warm - with a nearly rat-free hole above to carry away the smoke - and material to make torches.

I was busy smoking the vermin from the blankets when they brought Gamelan. His hair was stringy, his flesh grey, but he had a spring to his walk that let me know he was as well as could be expected.

'Welcome to your new home, wizard,' I said. 'Come warm yourself by the fire.'

Gamelan whooshed relief. 'Thank the gods it's you, Rali,' he said. 'I thought I was being taken to have my bones bent, or worse.'

He carefully made his way to the fire - he'd have taken offence if I'd led him there - and squatted down. He sniffed at the bubbling stew Oolumph had provided. 'Is that meat, I detect? Real meat?'

'It's rat,' I said, ladling out a bowl with a nice plump thigh in it.

'I could learn to like rat,' he said. He sipped the weak broth. 'Not bad.' The thigh bumped against his lips. Gamelan fished it out and gnawed on it with vigour.

'There's more where that came from,' I said. 'I know the innkeeper.'

I shook out the blanket and put it around his thin shoulders. He hugged it close, a smile of great bliss gleaming through his dirty beard.

'Oh, to be warm again,' he said. 'I didn't mind the thought of dying. As for the pain our hosts promised, I'm too old to pleasure them long. But the idea of going to my grave half-starved and chilled through to my backbone did not please me.'

'You've been speaking of death too much, wizard,' I said. 'Eat your fill. And warm those old bones to the marrow. I need your wisdom to get us out of here, my friend.'

'I doubt escape is possible, Rali,' he answered. 'We're so deep in the bowels of these dungeons you'd need a full year's production of a pipe-maker just to get the sunlight to us. And magic is no good. The Konyan wizards have so many layers of spells on this place that even the great Janos Greycloak would've had trouble raising a boil on a pox victim's hide.'

I didn't quarrel with him. I'd encountered the block with the very first spell I'd tried when I was dumped into that Konyan hole.

'Still, there must be some way,' I said. 'I've no intention of giving up without an effort. My brother escaped from a place much worse than this, and he was up against the Archons, to boot. Besides, I have my soldiers to think of. I got them into this mess. It's up to me to get them out.'

It was then that the singing started. A plaintive ballad in a remarkably sweet voice echoed along the dungeon corridors. It was a love story - the tale of a young woman who died tragically, and her lover who slew himself so they could be joined together as ghosts.

I was about to remark on its beauty when another voice rang out: 'Shut yer gob, Ajmer!'

I was shocked at the crass treatment the singer drew, as was Gamelan. But the song continued without interruption.

'You heard 'im, Ajmer!' rang out still another critic. 'I swear I kills yer if'n yer don't stop.'

Ajmer paid them no mind. He finished the song and began another -an ode to a tree that stood alone on a riverbank for a thousand years. The tree, it seemed, had once been a maiden who was so beautiful a god fell in love with her. He spurned the attentions of a goddess to woo this maiden, making the goddess so jealous she turned her into that tree.

Soon, the whole corridor rang with raucous threats. Through it all, Ajmer sang on.

'What barbarians,' I said to Gamelan.

'I was thinking the same thing, myself,' he said. 'There's no accounting for taste.'

Much time passed. Another coin found its way into Oolumph's pockets. Gamelan and I racked our skulls every waking moment, but no solution presented itself. Meanwhile, Ajmer kept singing, stopping only to sleep and eat. And all the songs were of the same sweet love-lost theme. His voice evoked bitter memories of my own lost loves: Tries, who left me for another; Otara, from whose death I'd never fully recovered; and - more maddeningly still - the Princess Xia, who was not my lover, but in my captivity the memory of her haunted me most fiercely.

I began to hate Ajmer as much as the others. To keep ourselves from going mad, Gamelan and I would rate the curses hurled at him. 'I'll rip your heart out if you don't stop,' someone would shout. The wizard and I agreed this was poor and lacked imagination. On the other hand, the fellow who screamed: 'I'll get a poxed whore to piss in your soup!' rated the highest mark of all. We rewarded him with a bowl of rat's stew. So much for our amusements, which, as you can tell, were few.

Through Oolumph, we learned the others were doing as well as could be expected. My Guardswomen were being held in the same area and seemed to have enough valuables to trade to ease the hardships of the dungeon, and I sent word to Corais and Polillo to keep them exercised as much as possible and added a few hopeful lies to boost their spirits. Cholla Yi and his pirates were having little difficulty - none of them, after all, were exactly inexperienced when it came to incarceration.

Meanwhile, Gamelan and I were having no luck coming up with an escape plan. The more we investigated, the less likely it seemed such an opportunity would arise. Hovering over all our musings and many debates was the mystery of how the Konyans learned of the part we'd played in freeing The Sarzana.

'The more I keep circling the question,' Gamelan said one day, 'the more it seems to me only The Sarzana himself could have been responsible. Other than him, the only people who knew were with our fleet, and none of them had contact with the Konyans until their ships surprised us.'

'But, that doesn't make sense,' I said. "What did he have to gain? It would've been better for him if his enemies believed he was so powerful he could escape without assistance. It'd make them fear him more when he suddenly showed up in the Cevennes.'

'That's true,' Gamelan said. 'Only a fool would not see such a claim was to his advantage. And The Sarzana, we've sadly learned, is no fool. Still... there is no other possibility. And if what I suspect is true, The Sarzana,- or someone close to him - believed it was more important to have us killed than to reap the benefits of secrecy.'

The wizard's logic was flawless, but no matter how hard I pounded my noggin, I couldn't make out what The Sarzana hoped to gain.

The routine of dungeon life moved as slowly and as agonizingly as one of Ajmer's songs. We arose each day - if day it was, since there was no sun to mark it - to the sound of Oolumph bringing the fixings for our meals. By necessity, these always involved some sort of stew. There were a few pitiful vegetables, a few unskinned rat carcasses, and sometimes a lump of an unrecognizable meat-with more fat than flesh. If there were rice, or beans, I'd pick out the stones before putting them in the pot. Any crumbs left over from our daily bread ration went in with them. Then I'd skin the rats, preserving the blood for the pot, scrape all the nourishment I could from the hides, and set the whole thing to simmer in a broth of boiled bones and hide.

We'd make fresh torches when necessary, breaking down the remnants of the others for fire kindling, and then wash as best we could. I exercised constantly, bending and stretching and fighting my shadow on the dungeon wall. I ran in place hour after hour, and dangled from the bars of our cell door, raising and lowering myself until my muscles screamed. This way, instead of weakening, I grew stronger each day.

Even with all the exercise, sleep was difficult. It seemed each time I was about to fall into a deep sleep, some force would suck me down with such fearful strength I sensed I'd suffer some great evil if I surrendered. I dozed in snatches - always an easy thing for a soldier-and in this manner remained fresh. Once a week we'd smoke our blankets, mattresses and clothing to rid them of any fleas or lice that had found their way into the seams.

There was no privacy possible between us, but we made do by meditating on other things while the other performed the human necessities.

Gamelan was such an amiable companion that our bonds only grew stronger. He became father, brother and friend to me. I confessed my most secret thoughts, detailed my weaknesses and failings, which he always managed to point out some good in. One night I told him about Otara and her death and how ever since then I could never let myself go completely; even I could see this was the source of my troubles with Tries. I told him how she desperately wanted to adopt a child, which I, for some reason, opposed. Gamelan said he thought it was because I was frightened of the bond that would be formed - a bond which I might secretly believe was a betrayal of my love for Otara. I wept at this, because I could see he was right, and he embraced me and soothed me as if he were my own father.

'I think Otara was as much a mother as a lover to you, Rali,' he said. 'So your grief is all tangled with your feelings for your mother, whom you admire above all others.'

I told him I thought she sometimes came to me, such as that day in the garden - which seemed so many years ago - when Omyere sang, and the smell of my mother's sandalwood perfume infused the air, and how I'd turned away and refused to accept her presence.

'Let me tell you what I think, Rali,' Gamelan said. 'Do you remember the story you told about the dream you had in which you slew your cousin?' I nodded, wiping my eyes. 'That was no dream, my dear. You know this, or it would not haunt you so. I concluded then your magical talents came from your mother. She passed them to your brother Halab, and in a very small way to Amalric. But it is in you that the greatest ability dwells - coming directly from mother to daughter.'

'Are you saying my mother was a witch?' I asked. 'Yes.'

'How can that be? She never practised magic, or seemed to pay much attention to spell-casters, or their kind.'

'I think she gave it up,' Gamelan said. 'For the love of your father.'

I thought of the sacrifice Gamelan had been forced to make, how bitter about it he was to this day, and could see the sense in what he said. Then I recalled the myth of my namesake in the small village that was my mother's birthplace. I told Gamelan about it.

He thought for a long time, then said: 'It was no myth, Rali. It happened.'

Understanding flooded in. 'Then the Rali of the tale was—'

'Your ancestor,' Gamelan broke in. 'Now I know myself why I've pressed you so hard. I've sensed from the moment we met that a heavy duty awaited that only you could perform.'

I'll confess, Scribe, that I was crying again. 'My mother always said,' I burbled, 'that Rali means hope.'

'Yes, my friend,' the old wizard said. 'You are hope. Our only hope.'

Hope, however, seemed in short supply as the days progressed. The war with The Sarzana was going badly for the Council of Purity. All their efforts to stop his depredations were as naught, and only Oolumph seemed happy as the admirals and generals who commanded the forces they threw at him failed in one battle after another. Those who survived joined us in the dungeon and Oolumph's purse grew fatter as he tended their needs.

From them we heard reports of The Sarzana's atrocities. He would besiege an island, hammer it with magically raised storms, terrify it with hordes of demons who committed the most unspeakable acts, and when the island finally bowed to the inevitable and surrendered, blood flowed in rivers as his forces moved in for the slaughter, killing and raping and burning. As he advanced his powers seemed to grow stronger, as if all the souls he'd sent to the reaper were fuel for an evil conflagration. The Konyan wizards seemed as helpless as the military forces sent against him. A jailed general told us his defeat came after six of the greatest wizards in the land worked in concert to conjure up a shield for his advancing troops.

'They worked for days on it,' he said, 'and when all was ready I was assured no force known by our gods could penetrate that shield. I led a flanking attack myself. At first, all went well. They came at us, but we beat them back, and were even making some progress. I saw The Sarzana - mounted on a large black steed - directing the battle from the hill we were advancing on. I sent word for our archers to shower the hill with arrows, thinking even if they failed to kill him, they might drive him from his command post. But as soon as the arrows were launched a black wind blew up that darkened the sky and the arrows meant for The Sarzana fell on us instead. Then my archers, instead of easing fire, acted as if they were possessed, firing volley after volley. Every arrow was deflected. And every arrow found a mark - except it was my own soldiers who were slain.'

T*he battle ended in a rout as the general's troops turned and ran. As they fled, the general said, huge direwolves leaped out of the very ground in pursuit, hamstringing them one after the other, and leaving them where they fell.

'I only survived myself,' the general said, 'because my horse was killed, toppling on me as it died. I was trapped under it all night.'

The general - whose legs were crushed - wept as he told us of how the direwolves came back to feed on the men they'd hamstrung. He listened to his soldiers' screams until dawn.

'A few of my bravest officers returned to rescue me,' the general said, 'but I wish to the gods they'd cut my throat instead.'

The general proved to be a brave man himself. He made no protest when they came for him - in fact, he seemed glad. We heard the torturers working on him and he only cried out a little; but not once did he beg for mercy.

A few days later Oolumph brought word of an even greater disaster.

'I'll be needin' another coin sooner'n usual, Cap'n,' he told me as he doled out our day's rations. 'Thing's are gettin' right dear on th' outside, they is.'

I made some sarcastic reply about the greedy farmers and merchants who afflict people whenever any crisis arises.

'Oh, that's been goin' on from the beginnin',' he said quite cheerfully. 'Way old Oolumph sees it, they's doin' folks a favour, they is. Why, everythin'd disappear right outer the stalls from all th' hoarders ifn they didn't bump up th' prices high 'nough. But when food 'n stuff's real dear, like; there'll al'as be plenty for them that's got the price. It's almos' a duty, ifn yer looks at her right. 'N it's not so bad, really. Th' poor's used to starvin', so they ain't too worst off. 'N it makes th' folks wit' coin to spare spread it around for those of us who're lackin', ifn you sees what ol Oolumph means.'

I started to get angry, but he was such an unabashed rogue, it seemed pointless. I flipped him a coin instead.

'Are you saying things are worse than before?' I asked.

'Indeedy, they is,' Oolumph said. 'Week 'r so ago, I hear tell, a hot wind started blowin'. Blew day 'n night, it did. Sucked th' juice right outter th' crops, it was so hot. 'N it's still blowin'. Even th' old folks say they never seen nothin' like. We don't feel it none down here 'cause we's so deep.'

I nodded, reflexively pulling my blanket coat closer. In the dungeons of Konya it was always winter.

'But it ain't just th' wind,' he continued. 'Folks started gettin' sick. Real sick. Some kinda plague, I guess. They tells me there's gettin' to be so many dead folks, there soon won't be enough of the livin' left to bury 'em.'

'The Sarzana!' Gamelan rasped.

'At's a way they figure,' Oolumph chortled. 'Looks likes he's a conjurin' fool. Hittin' Isolde wit' ever'thin' he's got!'

'It doesn't seem to make any difference to you who wins,' I said.

Oolumph cackled louder. 'I tol’ yer afore,' he said, 'these be good times for Old Oolumph. But not near so good as when Th' Sarzana was on top. Why, last time they added to th' dungeons was durin' his day. You'd brand me a liar, if'n I tol’ yer I was sorry that it looks like he's comin' back for good!' He popped the coin I'd given him in his purse, gave it a good, loud rattling, then hobbled off on his dirty business.