More searching through papers. "I knew it!" cried the man, running his finger across the page. "Tallia bel Soon, arrested for forging papers that were used in the purchase of Black Opal."

"What alias?" the woman asked.

"Jalis Besune."

She almost had a fit. "Besune is my father's name!" In a great flurry of excitement, everything was examined again. Tallia thought Pender was going to have a heart attack.

"I admit the forgery," said Tallia calmly. "However, it was done to escape from the war! It is not illegal to use another name in Meldorin, or in Crandor, so long as no crime or fraud is involved. I have a right to use the Magister's seal."

"Easy to say; not so easy to prove. Produce the seal."

Fortunately Tallia had it with her, and a warrant from Mendark which was genuine. Introducing his name into the affair caused more complications, for Mendark was known in Crandor, not entirely favorably. But on the other hand, his was a more powerful name than they cared to deal with on their own authority.

"Mendark must come here in person and explain his business."

Tallia answered that Mendark was not even in Crandor. The officials held another whispered conference. For a while it seemed that they would be kept in custody until he could be brought to account, for Tallia wasn't going to tell where Mendark was or what he was up to. She was already anxious about him, all alone.

"Hold on," said Tallia. "Mendark is not an owner of this boat."

"He was when the papers at issue were signed."

"And we have not even started on the transfer papers from him to you two," said the other.

"Really!" said Tallia icily. "This has gone on too long. I call for an arbitrator, as is my right. I will claim that you exceed your authority, to the hindrance of free trade."

"You have the right," said the woman. "Name your arbitrator."

"Dacia bel Rance," said Tallia, crossing her fingers in case she was no longer alive. It had been more than ten years.

The register fell closed with an immense clap. "The Deputy Governor!" The woman stared at Tallia, then at her fellow official.

"My aunt," Tallia said coolly. "And I may claim that you are harassing me to cover up your own corrupt dealings."

"We must consult," said the woman. The two officials disappeared through the door behind the counter.

"Pity you didn't speak up as soon as we got here," said Pender, wiping away the sweat.

"I didn't know Aunt Dacia had risen so high. Besides, using influence in Crandor can be a blade with two edges. It must be done delicately, at just the right moment."

Eventually the officials came back and the matter was settled but they were still not free to go. All the manifests had to be examined in excruciating detail, the duties paid. Finally they returned to a very worried Osseion, and the ship was searched with commendable thoroughness. Nothing illegal was found, but a day had been lost.

A few minutes later the corsair's boat came past for the third time.

"I don't like this at all," said Osseion. He stood up, staring at the sleek ship. "A poniard is a sneak's weapon. What kind of a person would give a boat that name?"

"A dangerous man," said Tallia.

Pender was not a brave man. "No!" he said when Tallia proposed that he make enquiries about Poniard and her captain. "I value my skin far too much to draw attention to myself in a strange city. We don't know who to trust."

"I don't trust anyone here," fretted Rustible, coiling yellow hair around a finger.

"I can ask my family," said Tallia, "when they get back."

"I'll go," said Osseion. "There are ways of finding these things out." It did not take him long; the boat was known in every waterfront bar.

"Poniard is owned and captained by Arinda bel Gorst. A clever and charming man; also ruthless and violent. The boat has a nasty reputation though no one would say anything specific. He's a smuggler, probably a pirate too, but it seems no one has lived to bring evidence to court."

"Why would he be interested in us?" asked Tallia.

"A fast ship, not from these parts," said Pender. "Perhaps he thinks we're in the same business, or trying to take his. If we disappeared no one would ever miss us. Black Opal's reputation seems to have been everywhere."

"More likely his agent in customs told him about our cargo," said Tallia. "Just what are you carrying in those locked crates, Pender? Silver bars? I noticed you kept the manifests from me back there."

"Nothing illegal. I've learned that the fewer who know, the better."

"I'm your partner, remember," she said sharply.

Pender looked a little nonplussed. "Much better than silver," he said. "Liquid metal. Twenty flasks of quicksilver, each your weight and worth a fortune here. I've invested all my profit in it."

"Enough to kill us all a hundred times, if a flask tips over in a storm," said Tallia angrily. "You should have told me! Well, get rid of it and get the money into the counting house before our friend bel Gorst comes for it."

"I can't," he said gloomily. "It goes to the Alchemical Academy at Twissel, two days down the coast. Osseion, better go out and hire some guards; and make damned sure that they aren't pirates too."

"I think I'll make a few more enquiries about Poniard while I'm out," said Osseion.

"Better hurry. If he gets the cargo I'm ruined."

"If he gets it," said Rustible somberly, "we're dead!"

It was a hot, still, sticky night. Everyone was hoping for a storm but it hadn't eventuated. They slipped out of Roros port under cover of darkness, making their way up the winding channel among the rocks and reefs.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea?" Tallia asked before they had gone very far. Waves could be seen breaking on reefs in every direction.

"It's a bad idea," Pender replied, "but not as bad as losing ship and cargo, and probably our lives as well, to that pirate, eh! I spoke to the pilot and bought the latest charts. The channel's not my biggest worry."

They were moving slowly forward under a rag of sail, Rustible at the bow with a lead line while Pender paced back and forth, sniffing the breeze.

"The wind?" asked Tallia.

"It's just a land breeze, shifting all the time. It'll die as the night goes on. But if it turns around to the east we won't be able to get out."

"Let's go back. Better not risk it," Tallia advised.

Pender pondered. He stared at the sky, rubbing his bristly jaw. Tallia could hear the rasping sound from the other side of the boat. "I think the land breeze will get us out." He shouted for a bigger sail.

The night passed with agonizing slowness; then, at midnight, the breeze suddenly died away and the sails hung limply from their poles.

Pender cursed, but he said confidently, "It'll come again. It's not far to the sea now."

They sat there for the rest of the night, anchored against the tide, but the breeze did not return. It was not a pleasant night, dwelling on bel Gorst coming after them. Only at dawn did a zephyr inflate the sails, just enough to move them out into the open sea.

"At last," Pender cried. "Let's be on our way before they come looking for us."

"Too late," Osseion intoned from halfway up the mast, where, incongruously, the massive soldier was keeping watch. "Yellow sail coming down the channel."

Pender clambered up. "She's caught the breeze and coming with it," he said. "Moving faster than we are, too."

The crew ran to their posts. The breeze stirred the sails and The Waif responded, though not with the same spirit as the other boat.

"It's her," Osseion called, "Poniard!"

"Farsh, farsh, farsh!" Pender only swore when he was extremely worried. He ran to the wheel.

"What is it?" Tallia asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"She's bigger than us, and faster, at least in these light airs. She's a well-crewed boat. Pity we didn't finish scraping our bottom; we're dragging a bit."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Not much," he said. "Bel Gorst knows these waters better than I do, and the winds too. Pray for a gale, though even then Poniard may be our match."

The blue sky was cloudless-no chance of any strong weather. Out to sea they picked up a nor'easter and tacked into it, for after Roros the coastline turned east. They zigzagged along the coast, the bigger boat steadily gaining, while Pender looked grimmer and grimmer. He seemed to shrink, to get shorter and squatter and more miserable. He had everything to lose-and to lose The Waif mattered more to him than his life.

"How far?" asked Osseion half an hour later. He meant to Twissel, where Pender was to unload the priceless alchemical quicksilver.

"Not even halfway," Pender grunted, his shoulders sagging even more.

They were now passing along a cliffed coastline, the dark rock wet, shiny and forbidding, cut by clefts and narrow inlets, and yawning sea caves into which the big swell burst, but none offered any hope of hiding or escaping.

It was a long and tedious chase, for at sea everything happens in slow-motion and there was little difference between the two vessels. The Waif picked up a little distance on the port tack then lost it and a bit more on the starboard. With every hour Poniard crept closer. She would overhaul them well before dark. Already she was only a couple of bowshots behind. Two archers stood at her bow, preparing to shoot for the sails.

"Osseion," called Tallia, "you draw a mighty bow. Think you can tear their sail from here?"

"Not yet! But soon I'll have a go."

Shortly, through Pender's spyglass, they saw the saturnine bel Gorst standing at the rail.

"Look at him gloating!" cried Pender, almost foaming at the mouth. "Shoot the bugger, Osseion."

Osseion drew back his bow, then loosened it again. "Still too far," he said regretfully.

"He's not gaining any more," said Tallia some time later. "Maybe we have his measure."

"I'm afraid not," Pender replied. "Look, he's changed the trim of his sails to make us think that. He's playing with us, keeping just out of bowshot, biding his time until we're well out of sight of Roros."

"I heard that too," said Osseion. "He loves to torment people."

"Is there any way of getting a bit more speed out of The Waif?"

"Only by throwing the cargo overboard," Pender said.

"Better to do that than let him have it," she said.

There was a tear in his eye. "I know, I know."

They raced on, but made up no ground. Finally Pender groaned. "All right, but the quicksilver last of all. Start the water over the side!" he yelled.

Tallia ran to the pump and began to discharge their fresh water, while Osseion climbed down into the hold to heave out as much of their ballast-stones-as they could dump without risk of the boat capsizing. The other crew followed, and when the ballast was gone, they lugged the rest of the cargo up-bags of grain, huge flagons of wine and oil, crates of porcelain and dried coconut. With each splash Pender looked sadder and sadder. After an hour and more, all of the cargo was gone save the quicksilver and enough food and drink to do them for a day or two.

The Waif began to inch ahead of its pursuer. "We've done it!" shouted Rustible, banging one fist in the other hand.

For a while it seemed that they had, then Poniard re-trimmed its sails, now, it seemed, sailing as fast as it could, and began to make up the distance. Soon it hung on their windward quarter, no closer than before but no further either. It was still too long till dark.

"Get rid of the anchors," said Pender in a dead voice. "Leave only the smallest."

After much grunting and heaving, the two large anchors crashed into the water, and then a smaller one. The distance between the two racing ships began to widen imperceptibly. Then they saw the pirate's crew hauling up something that had been dragging behind, a weighed-down section of sail. Suddenly, swiftly, the sleek craft began to overhaul them once more.

"The devil taunts us!" cried Pender, tears of rage running down his unshaven cheeks. "He had a sea anchor out all the while. There's no hope now. Throw out the quicksilver!"

Osseion ran down the ladder, to stagger back up with a great iron flask on his shoulder. Wobbling to the side he slid it over the rail into the sea, into which it plunged with a small, high splash. Pender stared at the place for a long time, then abruptly dashed the tears from his cheek and roared, "Send it over, quick!"

Those hands who were strong enough went below to help with the task. They could see bel Gorst's bared teeth-Poniard had approached so close-but at the sight of the precious cargo going over the side he roared at his archers and a flight of arrows sang toward them. Pender gave him a two-fingered gesture; the arrows sank into their wake.

"He didn't think we'd dump the quicksilver," said Tallia.

"Neither did I," said Pender miserably.

Osseion snatched up his enormous bow, drew back the string until the muscles corded in his arm, then let it fly. The arrow vanished. Suddenly bel Gorst fell back, jerking at something, then dropped into cover.

"Ha! See how you like that," cried Pender.

"Great shot, Osseion," said Tallia. "Did you get him?"

"Very near," said Pender, peering through the glass. "It went through the sleeve of his coat. He won't be so bold next time."

Tallia ran down the ladder to take her turn. Picking up one of the flasks, she heaved it onto her shoulder, instantly realizing that she wasn't quite strong enough. The curved iron was a crushing weight on her shoulder-blade. Twice she thought the flask was going to get away from her as she hauled herself one-handed up the ladder. The boat heaved, flinging her sideways and cracking her hand between the flask and the hull. She almost dropped the flask. Only the knowledge that Rustible was underneath kept her hanging on.

Somehow Tallia forced herself up the ladder with her precious, deadly cargo. As it plummeted over the side, another flock of arrows soared toward them. One actually struck the stern of the boat, drooping down like the tail feathers of a rooster on the chopping block.

"I'm not strong enough," she apologized as Osseion staggered by.

"If anything can be said to be man's work, this is it," he gasped.

On they went, and as the flasks went into the water, once more The Waif began to inch ahead of her pursuer. "Laugh now, you miserable bugger!" Pender whispered. "I'll bet you're sorry you didn't take us when you could."

They were rushing along a shore where some of the sea caves had collapsed to form a series of arches, pinnacles and rocky islands-a treacherous area simply marked "uncharted" on Pender's maps. They were sailing close to shore, but at this point Poniard moved further out to sea.

"Is he doing that to cut off a sudden dash for the open sea, or because of the danger of the shoals?" Pender said to himself.