"They can but try, sire."

"Then have them try." Kestrin purses his lips. "Small catapults, with flaming oil-can we design some that can be carried by a single packhorse and set up and fired by one man?"

Bassil frowns.

"They cannot use a spell for each man. You just told me that. Not if each is alone and in a different place. Without sorcerers, we must develop tactics so that sorcery is less effective. We will meet with the marshals tomorrow morning."

"The Sturinnese have moved from our borders."

"If we do nothing now, what will we do when they return?" asks the Liedfuhr.

Bassil bows his head.

87.

In the warm afternoon, the captain's cabin was crowded with the four around the table and the overcaptains and chief players standing behind Secca, Denyst, Alcaren, and Richina. Secca had edged the maps to one side, right in front of Richina. Green-tinged light from a brilliant day outside poured through the portholes and through the overhead sky-lenses, and the cabin was lighter than usual.

"You have been practicing at great length with the players," Wilten offered. "You have not mentioned what you may require of us.

"Or if there may be any way in which we can assist you," added Delcetta.

"I will be asking much of you both," Secca said, "but not before we reach Neserea. That is my hope, at least." She smiled wryly.

"You do not plan to attack Sturinn as the Sturinnese attacked Dumar and Neserea?" asked Wilten, adding hastily, "If I might ask."

"I hope to deal with the Sturinnese solely through sorcery," Secca said. "I had not planned to land lancers and invade Sturinn. Even if we should be successful in destroying every armsman and lancer in the isles, most hands would still be against us, and there is no way that Lord Robero could ever govern a land more than fifteen hundred deks from Liedwahr. We have no ships and no ports, and far too few lancers and sorceresses for such."

A quick and knowing look passed between the two over-captains.

"Will . . . sorcery . . . suffice?" Wilten's words were almost apologetic.

"I trust so. We would not be traveling this far had I not thought so." Secca shrugged. "As in many things, there is no way to make sure until the act. We will have to see."

Wilten's face---a face that was so unremarkable---remained impassive, even as he nodded.

"There is one other matter," Delcetta offered after a moment of silence. "Whether it be in Sturinn or Neserea, we could not offer much assistance for a day or more.

"Your mounts?" asked Alcaren.

"Sea travel does not help them. We have lost three already," Wilten said. "That does not include those lost with the Wellereiterin."

Secca winced. The effect of a longer voyage, on the lancers' mounts was another thing she hadn't thought about. How many others will there be? After a moment, she nodded to Alcaren.

He stood and began the scrying spellsong, accompanying himself on his lumand.

"Show us now and in this sun's light any Sea-Priests near that we might fight..."

Before he had finished, the glass in the middle of the table began to display images, and by the time the last note had died away, there were more than a dozen in the silvered glass.

"Look quickly," Secca prompted. She didn't want Alcaren to have to hold the image long, not when she would need all the sorcerous support he could provide in the days ahead.

The images all showed land-based forces, ranging from armsmen in formation to lancers waiting in loose ranks outside a barracks. There were some men in green-and-white uniforms in what looked to be harbor-side forts, and others drilling on an open green field.

"No ships," offered Denyst. "Strange for the Sea-Priests, isn't it?"

Alcaren glanced to Secca. "That's true. Let me try another one." He pursed his lips and thought for a moment, before singing a second scrying spellsong: "Show us now and in this sun 's light any ships near that we might fight . . ."

The mirror remained blank.

"That doesn't mean they don't have some ships, but there aren't any warships or ships with armsmen aboard," Secca explained.

"You have sent a few to the bottom," Denyst acknowledged with a laugh.

"There is still a large fleet in the Bitter Sea," Richina added.

Secca nodded to Alcaren. He sang the release couplet, then slipped the lumand onto the double bunk behind where Palian stood and reseated himself.

Secca eased the map in front of Denyst, pointing. "How long before we can reach this end of Stura?"

"Late tomorrow afternoon, if the wind holds."

"How close can we come to this point, off the mountain here?"

"In these waters, hard to say." The captain tilted her head slightly. Don' t have good charts.

Might be able to get within half a dek. If there's a reef, could be as far as three deks."

Secca frowned. 'We really need to be about a dek away."

"You need us to be dead in the water?" asked the captain.

"No. It would be better if we were moving, because, if the spell works we'll need to get away quickly. Also . . . we really don't need any other ships close by us. They can't help with the sorcery, and we don't need to worry about them."

"You might create another storm?" Denyst raised her eyebrows.

"It could be worse," Secca admitted. "It might not be, but it could be. No one has ever sung this spell. The accompaniment has been played, but the words have not been sung."

"Could anyone else-" began the captain.

"It's a Mist World spell," Secca said quickly.

Most of the faces around the table, even Richina's, expressed a degree of puzzlement.

"The people of the Mist Worlds know more about worlds---not just our world," Secca replied.

"Without that knowledge, the spell would not be possible."

Skepticism replaced puzzlement on Denyst' s face.

"You can explain to me," Secca began, "how a ship is built, and why the sails are set so. Could you do that, and could anyone build a ship like the Silberwelle, if you did not know how the winds blow and the oceans flow?"

Denyst frowned.

"Do you recall the spell that destroyed the crews of the Sturinnese ships in the battle off Encora?" Secca pressed.

"I recall that it nearly killed you as well."

"Have you ever seen sorcery that kills scores without destroying anything around them? That spell was Lady Anna's, and it worked because she knew something that we did not This spell is based on something like that"

"You don't want it used again?"

"This is a different spell, and I'd rather not use it at all," Secca admitted, "but I have nothing else that will serve." Nothing that you have been able to find or write.

"Your face says that more than your words, Lady Sorcemss," Denyst say dryly. "Mighty as this spell must be, would you mind if we were set on a seaward course when you sing it?"

Secca shook her head. "That would be best. The other ships should be at least five deks farther at sea."

"That we will arrange." After a moment, Denyst added, "We'll be in the channel by sunset today or a glass before. Thought we'd stay at the edge of being able to see the isle of Stura itself, leastwise until after midday tomorrow." The captain leaned back in her chair.

Secca looked to Palian. "Can we do another run-through in, say, half a glass?"

"We will be ready." Palian's voice was grave. Secca suspected it would be far graver if Palian understood the impact of the spell. Would the players play it well if they knew? Secca wondered, not for the first time.

88.

Secca found her hands tightening around the port-side railing of the poop deck. She loosened one hand, lifted it, and flexed it, then the other. In the light afternoon air, even under full sail, the Silberwelle seemed to be creeping northwestward away from the center of the forty-dek-wide channel between Stura and the smaller isle of Trinn. The sky was deep blue and cloudless, and the rays of the late-afternoon sun were summer-like, so much so that Secca had taken out her green felt hat to protect her face. With the heat of the sun, the air smelled less salty, but Secca still felt itchy, as she had for most of the voyage, despite her use of song-sorcery to come up with the occasional bucket of fresh water for washing.

Except for the nine Ranuan ships, the channel was empty. A brief look in the scrying glass earlier in the morning had shown no ships anywhere in the isles, except for three merchant vessels tied up at the port of Stura, four others at various other piers, and a number of fishing craft almost everywhere. To the west, the dark line that was the shore continued to become more distinct, but Secca could not make out the landmarks that Denyst and the lookouts reported Secca flexed her hands again.

Alcaren smiled at Secca's impromptu exercise, but did not speak, his eyes looking aft to the sails of the other ships, now east of the Silberwelle, their courses diverging from that of the Silberwelle with every moment. For nearly two days, the Silberwelle had tracked the coastline of Stura, a land far too large in Secea's mind to be called an isle.

After a time, she eased toward the helm platform, near where Denyst stood.

"How long?" Secca looked to Denyst.

"Another glass and a half, I'd judge, less if the wind picks up, and more, if it dies off. Looks to stay the same. The channel's so calm it's almost eerie."

"Can you tell how close we can get?"

"Not yet. If it's like this, with no reefs, we can get within a dek and still be in deep water."

"That's important?"

"In deeper water, the Sea-Priests could not raise a wave that would be more than a swell."

Would they raise a wave that could damage their own isle? Secca laughed to herself, realizing how stupid the question was. The Sea-Priests fought to the bitter end when cornered in Liedwahr. Why would that be any different in Sturinn?

"They may not have sorcerers here who can do that, but I agree. I'd rather not chance that."

Secca frowned. "But they would have to travel to the shore opposite where we are. They don't know where we're headed, and we're not going to be stopping or anchoring."

"That's much to my liking, sorceress," Denyst said cheerfully. "Much."

"Thank you. I need to tell the players to get ready." Secca nodded and turned away.

"How long?" asked Alcaren, as Secca stepped back toward the railing.

"A glass and a half, if the wind stays as it has. Could you tell Palian . . .?" Secca laughed. "What am I going to do? Stand here and wait?" She walked forward, turned, and climbed down the ladder to the main deck.

About half the players were in shaded spots on the main deck, and Secca found Palian and Delvor deep in conversation near the starboard side in a patch of shade created by one of the lower sails. Delvor was nodding in agreement to whatever Palian said.

Both glanced up, almost guiltily, as Secca neared.

"Lady Secca," Palian said.

Delvor bowed, and then straightened and pushed back his forever-flopping lank brown hair.

"Lady."

"The captain thinks we will reach our destination for sorcery in about a glass and a half," Secca said. "I thought the players should start to make ready for a last run-through in about a glass. Is that satisfactory?"

"Perhaps a bit before," Palian replied. "I have some-still---who find preparing on a ship challenges their ability. Then, everything challenges the ability of one of them."

Secca smiled sympathetically. She had no doubt that the chief player was referring to the hapless Bretnay.

Palian glanced at Delvor, then looked to Secca. "Delvor and I were talking over some matters. If you and I could repair to the upper deck . . .?"

"Of course." Secca wondered what the two had been discussing and hoped that it wasn't a problem with the fifth building song or the players. But then, she hoped it wasn't a major problem of any kind. There are going to be more than enough of those.

Delvor nodded and stepped away, and the two women crossed the deck, angling aft past the mainmast. Secca gestured for Palian to precede her up the ladder to the poop deck. They moved to the railing a good five yards from where Alcaren stood.

Palian looked at the sorceress. "You never did intend to land on any of the isles of Sturinn, did you, Lady Secca?"

"No." Secca eased the water bottle from her belt and took a swallow, looking toward the dark shore on the western horizon, a shoreline that neared and became more distinct with every fraction of a glass that the Silberwelle sailed northwest through the channel and toward the isle of Stura.

"I know not what sorcery you plan," Palian said slowly, "save that it will be terrible, and it will create for you the very problems that it did for Lady Anna."