'Here, then-' Sharr took Brand's hand and placed it on the helm, 'keep us on this course and I'll fetch them myself. Who's for a drink, then?'

No one answered; Brand looked as though he was about to soil his leggings.

'All right, beers all around it is then.' Sharr disappeared into the galley, singing, 'I know a girl and her name is Mippa. I bet you five Mareks she'll give you a gripper!' He returned a moment later and passed ceramic bottles to everyone.

Markus looked askance at his, then gripped the cork with his teeth, pulled it out and spat it over the side. He guzzled as much as he could stomach. Brand saw the moribund pallor fade from his friend's face and decided to follow Markus' lead, chugging nearly the entire bottle.

'Better?' Sharr asked.

'Yes,' Brand nodded enthusiastically, 'surprisingly so!'

'How about you, Stai-?' Sharr froze. 'Oh, rutters.'

Blanched and trembling, Stalwick stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. He gripped the beer bottle with one hand, squeezing until it shattered. Ceramic shards sliced into his palm; Stalwick didn't notice.

'Holy mothers!' Markus cried, 'what's wrong with him?'

Stalwick collapsed, kicking and scratching in wild spasms, rolling across the deck until he came to rest in a foetal ball beside the miniature dory they'd lashed down that morning.

'I bet it's-' Brand's feet went out from under him and he landed hard on his back, sliding across the icy deck.

'Help me get him into the cabin,' Sharr ordered. 'Markus, there's a cot folded up against the forward bulkhead, inside the storage cubby go and get it. Brand, drag him in here. Make sure he's breathing, then unfurl that tarp. It'll keep him a bit warmer. There are blankets in the third cupboard, the one beside the cooking pots.'

Brand crawled back to Stalwick, then half-dragged and half-pushed the unconscious man inside the little cabin. He found the oiled canvas tarp and unlashed it so it covered the doorway, shutting out some of the wind. The enclosed space quickly felt warmer.

'He went like this before,' Sharr said, 'when Gilmour used him to warn us that the Malakasians knew we were coming.'

'Listen closely, in case he says anything.'

Stalwick didn't speak; he just lay on the cot, his mouth hanging open and his eyes askew, staring blindly up at the wooden ceiling.

The three men went back to the helm to confer.

'We've got to go back,' Markus said. 'Who knows what this means?'

'I told you: we can't go back, not yet,' Sharr said. 'Just calm down; we're out here at least until dawn when the tide turns.'

'But-'

'But nothing. Wind and water are against us and it would take more sailing skills than you two have combined to get us about and hauled close for Capehill. So as long as he's breathing, we'll give him a few moments and see if he wakes up. Brand, take the helm. Keep us right on this heading.' He slid the binnacle open and showed him the compass. It was pointing east-northeast. 'I'll net us some fish for dinner, and then we'll have a sailing lesson or two, just in case.'

'But we've got dinner,' Markus said plaintively. 'We've brought plenty to eat.'

'But this'll give us something to do. Come on, Markus, I'll bet you've always secretly wanted to learn how to sail, haven't you?'

An aven later, as darkness fell, the three companions ate their fill of fresh-caught jemma and drank enough beer to numb their uncertainty. They had no idea what had befallen Stalwick; he was an inept soldier, but he was also the only one amongst them with even a copper Marek's worth of mystical power. They all felt the same foreboding chill as they watched Stalwick breathe in shallow gasps, his hands frozen in ungainly claws and his eyes fixed half a world away.

Around middlenight, Sharr tossed Markus a blanket and ordered him to get some sleep. 'Brand and I will take the first watch,' he said. 'You and he can trade in an aven.'

'What about you?' Brand said.

'I'll stay at the helm. The wind is dying a bit. If it drops more before dawn, you can keep us on course for a while and I'll try to sleep, but I don't want you two piloting in the dark. Who knows where we might end up?' He laughed, wryly, trying to lighten the mood a little.

'Fine with me.' Markus ducked beneath the tarp curtain and curled up on the floor next to Stalwick's berth. 'See you in an aven,' he called.

Markus traded places with Brand just before the predawn aven. The wind had fallen off and the Missing Daughter Missing Daughter made her way through the diminishing swells like a pleasure boat on a summer sea. It was warm inside the cabin, with the tarp curtain still closed. Marcus had removed his oiled poncho and cloak; Brand did the same, wrapped himself in Markus' makeshift bed and was asleep in moments, snoring lightly. made her way through the diminishing swells like a pleasure boat on a summer sea. It was warm inside the cabin, with the tarp curtain still closed. Marcus had removed his oiled poncho and cloak; Brand did the same, wrapped himself in Markus' makeshift bed and was asleep in moments, snoring lightly.

'Where are we?' Markus asked softly.

'Off the northeast coast, moving along the outer banks.'

'No sign of our carrack?'

'Hard to say; the winds are down, the tide's about to start running against us. That's bad for sailing, but good for standing the middle watch. If she's out here and her watchlights are burning, we ought to be able to see her. I haven't checked aft in a while; I don't normally keep that tarp unfurled, but with Stalwick and all, I figured I ought to keep it warm in there.'

'Thanks for that. So what am I looking for?'

'A ship that large will have a number of watchlights on deck: fore, aft and amidships, maybe even a few aloft. Downwind, you might even smell her galley, what they're serving for breakfast. So basically, if you see anything that looks like glowing orbs of fire floating just above the water, that's our whore.' He yawned, stretching his shoulders and back. He had been standing over the binnacle, keeping them on course with the changing tide, but finally he gave up and sat in his captain's chair.

'One luxury, I see,' Markus teased him.

'I'm getting older,' Sharr smiled. 'Can't be standing here all day and night.'

'So where's our bowsprit?'

'I reefed it last aven.'

'Over the water? In the dark? Alone? That was brave of you!'

'Nonsense,' Sharr said, 'there are horses all the way out to the end that's the lines you stand on. When I was a whelp, I worked on a cutter with a naked bowsprit, not a footrope to be seen. Rutting Pragans, but that tested your courage, especially in the rain and ice. You learned balance in a hurry, no mistake, with one hand on the standing rigging, not to mention how to tie a half-hitch with one hand and the occasional toe.'

'Ever lose anyone?'

'We had a few that got dunked, but after a while we worked out we ought to be wearing safety lines.' He sighed. 'Took some of the adventure out of it.'

'You want some tecan?'

'No, let's wait for first light. You'd have to climb over Brand to get in there, anyway.'

Markus sat down gingerly on a coil of rope near the helm started sniffing the wind, hoping for the scent of Malakasian breakfast: boiled greenroot and cabbage or something similarly disagreeable. From time to time he hauled himself to his feet and peered over the gunwale, but he found nothing.

After a quarter-aven, he rested his forehead on his knees, then gradually gave in to sleep.

Markus woke to Sharr shouting, 'Get up, gods rut you raw, get get up!' up!'

He was on his feet in an instant, gripping the rail to keep from falling. 'What? What's the matter?' he asked, still a little disoriented. 'Is it the carrack?'

'Stalwick's gone!' Sharr cried, looking about him wildly.

'Gone? What? How can he be-?' He peered into the little cabin. The cot was empty. 'But where-?'

Brand pushed past him and took the helm. 'Go ahead,' he said to Sharr, who rolled and lashed the tarp, opening the cabin to the elements. Dawn whitened the horizon. 'Right, listen,' he ordered, 'when we jibe, we've got to let the main out. We've been on this broad reach, so we don't have to let it far, and for rut's sake, wait until I tell you!'

Markus rubbed his eyes, muttering, 'I don't- What's happening? Where-?'

'Markus!' Sharr cried, making him jump, 'watch me, man. When I shout to Brand, you bring that spanker over. Keep it parallel with the main boom. Understand?'

'But I don't-'

'That rope there, the pin's aft on the port side. Come on, Markus, it's not that big a sheet.' Sharr moved out towards the bowsprit.

Markus hurried over to Brand, saying, 'What are we rutting doing?'

'I think we're turning around,' he said. 'I think that's what jibing is, or coming about or whatever he calls it.' Sharr was halfway out the bowsprit now, already over open water. Rather than being chased by towering swells as they had been the previous day, now the Missing Daughter Missing Daughter faced ranks of rolling waves, splashing over the bow, threatening to wash Sharr all the way to the Northern Forest. faced ranks of rolling waves, splashing over the bow, threatening to wash Sharr all the way to the Northern Forest.

'But why? How do we know Stalwick is back there?'

Brand pointed at the deck: the dory was gone.

'Unholy rutting mothers!' Markus untied the spanker, keeping the line tight as ordered and watching Sharr for the sign to bring it over the transom. 'Demonshit, what did he do? Where is he, Brand? He can't be out alone in that thing we've got to find him!'

'He's there.' Brand pointed over the transom.

'Great gods of the Northern Forest.' Markus stood in mute amazement, looking at the carrack in the distance, running north, perhaps a thousand paces off their stern. She was impossibly tall, and massive, and with her sails filled and billowing, looked more like an unchained sea monster than a ship. Between the two vessels, rolling dangerously in the swells, Stalwick Rees rowed furiously, careening from trough to trough. He was dressed as a Malakasian soldier.

Stunned, Markus let go the spanker line, slashing a bloody gash across his palm as the little sheet ripped free, its miniature yard swinging wide to port.

'Markus!' Sharr screamed from the bowsprit. He plunged beneath another wave, but came up, still loosening the forward sheet and shouting, 'Get that rutting line, Markus! Gods cook your mother's arse, don't let it run out of the tackle; you'll never get it back through. Grab it!'

Markus dived for the spanker yard, caught it and pulled back over the transom, then fell on slippery deck and hit his head. He cursed Stalwick's entire family as he crawled on hands and knees to the transom and tugged the rigging line tight with bloody fingers.

Once it was secure, he called to Brand, 'How did he get away?'

'We were sleeping, you and I were, anyway. I'm not sure what he did to Sharr, used some kind of spell, I guess. I don't know; I thought he was dead.'

Markus watched impotently as Stalwick rowed further and further away.

Sharr unfurled the bowsprit, then hauled on its rig and belayed it. The sail fluttered uselessly as he shouted, 'Get ready!' and made his way to the junction of his spinnaker rig and the spar, where he steadied himself while wrestling with the knots. At last he cried, 'All right, Brand, bring us about! Crank her over!'

At first, nothing happened. But as the Missing Daughter Missing Daughter turned, Markus felt a light tugging on the rig line in his hand: they were catching the wind. turned, Markus felt a light tugging on the rig line in his hand: they were catching the wind.

He watched Stalwick stand precariously astride the bench, waving frantically for the carrack's forward watch. The great ship loomed over the rowboat and it seemed certain that Stalwick would be crushed beneath her hull, no one on board any the wiser to his one-man assault.

'Get out of there, you bloody fool!' he cried.

The carrack furled her topsails, then her mains.

The spanker pulled taut. Markus hauled it parallel with the main beam, watching Brand who was watching Sharr, still aloft, but shouting orders.

Stalwick waved at a sailor, who waved back.

'No,' Markus whispered, 'wait, we're coming.'

A rope ladder was lowered off the port bow. Stalwick reached for it, slipped and fell into his little boat, then took the ladder again with both hands. As he clung there, the rowboat thudded along the carrack's hull, then floated away.

The Missing Daughter Missing Daughter found the wind and her bow came around slowly. A massive swell rolled over the port beam, knocking Markus to the deck, and the bowsprit filled with a noise like a muffled thunderclap. The old trawler made way, staring down a Malakasian carrack twenty times her size. found the wind and her bow came around slowly. A massive swell rolled over the port beam, knocking Markus to the deck, and the bowsprit filled with a noise like a muffled thunderclap. The old trawler made way, staring down a Malakasian carrack twenty times her size.

Stalwick Rees reached the top of the rope ladder and disappeared over the rail, into Malakasian custody.

Aloft, Sharr was still shouting, 'You've got to feel for it, Brand. Back and forth a bit, feel for the wind and watch the swells, they'll show you!' As the bowsprit caught the wind he screamed, 'That's it! Well done, old man, well done! ' And with both hands clasped around a length of hemp, Sharr jumped.

The spinnaker rig spun with a humming sound like the drone on a bellamir as Sharr dropped to the foredeck, landing lightly as his secret sail, a vast billowing sheet, unfurled. It was attached with a clever array of looped lines, so all Sharr needed to do was unlash the uppermost and then leap into the morning. The massive sail was a magnificently stained and patched quilt, but it caught the wind, filled with a noisy snap and dragged the Missing Daughter Missing Daughter towards the carrack. towards the carrack.

'Woo hoo!' Sharr jigged like a madman, 'now we're running, boys! Did you see that?'

'Grand.' Markus frowned. 'So what do we do now?'

'Ram her?' Brand suggested.

'Good gods, no,' Sharr said, 'that tub wouldn't even feel us. We have to get on board, maybe get below. The holding cells will be down several levels. If we can break out, one of us might be able to get to her rudder, maybe disable the fat bitch from the inside.'

'Why do you think he did it?' Brand asked, giving up the helm.

'I think he saw it yesterday,' Sharr said, his cheery mood dissolving.

'Saw it?'

'The future. I think he saw himself doing whatever it is he's doing over there right now.'

'He's in manacles right now,' Brand said, 'or bent over the rail taking a beating.'

'Let's hope not,' Markus said. 'He's no threat.'

'They don't care. They'll see through that uniform he's wearing where'd he get that, anyway?'

'Guilty,' Sharr said. 'I brought one for each of us, figured we might need them.'

'Should we put them on now?' Markus checked out beyond the spinnaker. They were closing fast on the carrack.

'Too late,' Sharr said, 'they've seen us.'

Brand went below, returning with another brace of throwing knives. 'We'll never get on board with bows, rapiers or swords, but if there's going to be a fight, we might be able to keep one or two of these hidden, at least until we're all on deck together.'

'There're two hundred soldiers and sailors on the ship, Brand.' Sharr looked sceptically at the double-edged blades.

'So what?' Brand shoved two more knives into his own belt, then handed two to Markus. 'So we don't fight at all? We let them-'

'Wait,' Markus cut him off, 'look there. What's that?'