Arlin! snapped Rodyn Garrick, over his shoulder.

Cringing like a kicked dog, Arlin fell silent.

Then Captain Hayle returned with his crewwhat was left of them, any roadand they started tying oiled ropes to the railing. Rafel counted heads. Sixseveneight It was going to be a b.l.o.o.d.y tight fit.

Is that everyone?

Hayle nodded, knotting off his rope. Aye.

No, someone was missing. Wheres Fernel Pintte?

Hayle nodded behind him. Mayor Pinttes senseless. Hit his head. Well lower him to you first.

Pintte senseless? That was a blessing. Fine, Captain, but crack on, eh? We aint got much time before Aye, said Hayle, glancing at the whirlpool. Can you get that skiff of yours a mite closer?

Barl save me. Sharply aware of silenced Arlin staring down at him, feeling him use his magic, feeling his pain and exhaustion, he coaxed the water beneath the skiff to lift themlift themuntil the skiffs blunt bow kissed the fishing smacks hull.

Hayle and his men flung Fernel Pintte over the smacks side, tied up in ropes like a goose trussed for the oven. As soon as Doranas mayor thudded onto the skiffs boards, not stirring at his indignity, Rafel shoved him out of the way, then looked again to the captain.

You next, Hayle.

Me last, said Hayle. Got to see these fine folk settled first. Thanks to Da he knew a bit about the stubbornness of fishermen. All right.

Turning to Arlin, Hayle thrust a tied-off rope into his hands. Go on, young lord. Hold tight, scoot quick, and if you happen to strip a bit of skin off ypalms, rememberit could be a b.l.o.o.d.y sight worse.

Arlin hesitated.

Come on, Arlin! Rafel shouted up at him. We aint got all day. Behind him, Da groaned. Rafel Arlin! Stop p.i.s.sing about! he shouted, then turned to his father. Da!

His fathers face was ashen beneath its smeared coating of blood. I be losin it, Rafe. Get em down herewe got to go The whirlpool! cried Sarle Baden. Hurry!

Foaming splashing a whisper of power. The harbour sinkhole began to spin more swiftly.

Da was close to sobbing with the strain of fighting the whirlpool. Rafe.

I know, Da, he said, desperate. Just a bit more. Not long now. Just a bit.

And then he found himself fighting his own frantic battle as the water beneath the skiff surged, responding to the waking whirlpool, testing his control. As he struggled to keep the skiff steady, to keep it from sucking towards the whirlpool, as another waterspout roared into life, the fishing smack lurched violentlyand the five Doranen mages desperately slithered over its canting side.

A second waterspout spewed into the air, close enough to soak them with whipping sprayand he lost control of the water, and the skiff, and was knocked off his feet completely and fell on top of Doranas still-senseless mayor.

The clambering Doranen tumbled into the harbour like rotten apples from a lightning-struck tree.

Rafel scrambled off Fernel Pintte, not caring if he broke bones, and threw himself precariously across the skiffs side. Reached for the nearest bobbing blond head, grabbed it by the hair, and hauled.

It was Arlin.

He dragged the poxy little s.h.i.t coughing and spluttering into the skiff. Arlin shouted with pain then heaved up gouts of salty water. My fathermy fatherAin Rafe shoved him aside. Stay down and shut your trap!

Two more waterspouts howled up from the harbour. There was no time to collapse them even if hed been strong enoughand he wasnt. Not any more. And Da was sprawled across the rowers seat, barely moving. Barely breathing. But he wasnt dead, not yet, so he had to stay where he was untended. Rafel reached down to the water for the next closest Doranen mage, locked his fingers around the mans wrist and pulled. Pulled again. Felt his shoulder trying to pull free of its socket, the pain as hot and bright as magic, and kept on pulling. Hauled the coughing, kicking Doranen over the skiffs side.

It werent Rodyn Garrick.

The other three Doranen mages were too far away to reach. Long yellow hair plastered across their faces, they splashed feebly towards the wildly tossing skiff. Arlin was hanging over its side, shrieking, waving his arms around and getting in the way.

Father! Father!

b.l.o.o.d.y stay down, I said! Rafel bellowed at him, and knocked Arlin on his skinny a.r.s.e.

Hurling abuse, Arlin flailed to his feet. Ignoring him, hating him, Rafel reached his hand out again. But as his fingers closed on the closest mages sodden shirt, the whirlpool ripped free of Das magic with a rumble like thunder; an enormous waterspout, erupting, flipped the fishing smack onto the reef. Flung the skiff sideways. The stricken Doranens shirt was torn from his desperate grasp.

No time to think. No time to feel. No time to stare in horror at the blue and yellow fishing smack, broken-backed and splintered, its captain and its crew smashed and dying before his eyes. No time to try and save the last three mages in the harbour.

They were beyond saving, any road. The whirlpool had taken them. They swirled round and round, screamingand swirled out of sight.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Father! howled Arlin. Then he leapt. Rafel, you murdering b.a.s.t.a.r.d!

Rafel punched Arlin hard in the gut, twice. Dropped him retching to the bottom of the skiff, clenched his fists double-handed and struck him across the face. He felt the flesh over his raw knuckles split, saw Arlins cheek split over the bone. But he couldnt care about that. It was knock the fool as senseless as Pintte or let them all die.

With the last of his strength he reached within himself, to that place where so much power had hidden. The power Da had kept from him. Dont think on that. It doesnt matter. Not now. The cauldron was sc.r.a.ped almost bare. A few sparkings remained, nowt more.

A few sparkings would have to do.

Shuddering, he summoned them. Shuddering, he imposed his will on the water. The water resistedresistedand he strained to break it, strained to breaking, felt the hot blood pour from his eyes and his nose. Spat blood and saliva on the boards at his feet.

Meanly, grudgingly, the water finally obeyed. The skiff lurched as the wave hed created retreated them from death. Half-blinded, exhausted, he clung to the mast. Turned to see if his father could help but Da was still sprawled across the rowers seat, with only the uneven rise and fall of his chest to show he wasnt dead. Hurting so much, his head pounding, his body pounded, Rafel throttled his fear.

h.e.l.l be fine. h.e.l.l be fine.

Woken and weeping, Arlin huddled face-down at his feet. The other rescued Doranen reached for him. Who was it? Sarle Baden? With a foul curse Arlin knocked the older mans hand away. The mage recoiled then looked roundyes, it was Badenand dragged the straggling wet hair from his face. Sat up, groaning, and stared across the turbulent harbour towards the reef.

Barl save us, he croaked, his voice scratchy with salt. Look.

The unrestrained whirlpool roared savagely wider, white foam spewing into the air. Beyond the reef dozens of waterspouts whipped and howled. And the fishing smack, ruined, fell at last to pieces and was sucked spar by sail by rigging by net, down into the harbours depths.

Still clinging to the skiffs mast, Rafel dragged his gaze from the dreadful sight and looked back to Westwailings pier. So far away, too b.l.o.o.d.y far and he was so sinkin tired he had nothing left to give In the s.p.a.ce of three heartbeats five more waterspouts burst into life around them. Then another. And another. The sluggishly moving skiff slewed hard port, then harder starboard. Rafel dropped to his knees in the struggle to control it.

Barl save us, Baden said again, and this time he sounded helpless. Grieve not for your father, Arlin. Were about to join him.

Trussed-up and discarded Fernel Pintte stirred, muttering. Rafel looked at him, his vision blurred with pain and effort. Looked at grief-struck Arlin. At Sarle Baden. At Da. Four lives counting on him but only one that counted. A dreadful thought. Shameful. Wicked. And true.

Hold on, Da. Hold on.

Nauseous with terror, with feeling so much foul magic, Dathne watched the skiff desperately jink and swerve across the turbulent harbour, trying to reach Westwailings pier. Beside her, halfway down the stone fingers length, the townships mayor was almost in tears.

Please, Meistress Dathne, we cant stay here any longer! It be too dangerous. Weve got to retreat! Threeves imploring fingers hovered a hairsbreadth from taking hold of her arm. Cant you see we could be washed away any moment?

The craven fool was exaggerating but not by much. Whipped-up water slapped viciously on both sides of them, dangerously tossing the tethered fishing fleet. Shed lost count of how many waterspouts now ripped across the harbour and by her uncertain reckoning three more whirlpools had formed. But what did that matter? So long as Asher and Rafel were still out therenot drowned I dont care, Threeve, she said, so afraid she sounded calm. Run if you want to. Im not shifting an inch.

But I cant leave you out here! said Threeve, anguished. We cant leave you. Please, Dathne, please Look! shouted one of Westwailings fishermen, standing with the others a respectful distance behind them. Here she comes!

Heedless of the danger, of Threeves shouted protests and the scouring salt spray, Dathne bolted towards the end of the pier. The skiff was coming in fast but erratic, threatened at every turn by huge waves and whirling waterspouts. It was close enough now for her to see Rafel and one Doranen standing with the mast between them. But where was Asher? Where was he? She felt rage and grief burst from her in a single, moaning cry.

Then dimly she heard a dull thudding in her wake as Westwailings fishermen chased her down the pier. They were risking their lives and she didnt care. It was Asher they were running to. Asher, and her son.

Skidding to a halt, arms windmilling to keep her balance, she watched the skiff wallow, losing speed, losing purpose. No, no. Not this close. She couldnt lose them this close. Not so close she could see her sons drained face, streaked with water and blood, empty of hope.

A pair of hands seized her, thrust her roughly aside. One of the fishermen. She didnt know his name. You stay put, he ordered. He sounded like Asher. This be our harbour.

Numb, Dathne watched the six men pound down a treacherous stretch of stone steps leading down to the water. To another skiff tethered to an iron ring sunk into the pier. One untied the skiff, one stood by the tiller, and the other four leapt for the oars. Two men on each, they dug the wooden blades into the surging water, heading for Rafels skiff before it was too late. She pressed her fingers to her lips, trembling. Skittered her terrified gaze around the fretful harbour, expecting at any moment a fresh waterspout to rise up and smash both boats.

Rafels skiff swung about, taking on water. Straining, she could see another blond head in the small boat, seated and slumping. Was there no-one else? Only Rafel and two Doranen? The skiff slewed again and then she saw him. Saw Asher, folded over the skiffs rowing seat.

Barl save me. He looks dead.

Choking back tears, she watched the fishermen reach her husband and son. Rafel and the Doranen mage with him caught the ropes the men threw and tied the two wallowing skiffs together. As the harbour heaved and the dancing waterspouts danced closer, the rescuers fell to their oars again. Rafel eased his father off the rowing seat, gestured at the Doranen who stood with him, and they unshipped their skiffs oars. Started rowing with desperate strength.

When Threeve touched her shoulder, Dathne nearly fell off the pier with fright.

Its nearly over, the mayor said. Like her, he was soaked to the skin, bedraggled and shivering. You should stand back, Dathne. Dont be in the way.

He was right, sink him. As the tethered skiffs reached the pier she retreated, though every screaming instinct told her to run down those wet stone steps and throw herself on Asher and Rafel.

One by one, the fishermen brought up the men from the rescued skiff. Rafel first, staggering. The two Doranen came nextSarle Baden and Arlin Garrick, both looking half-drowned. Arlins face was bruised raw and bleeding. Then came Fernel Pintte, wits wandering, festooned with rope, his hair and face clotted with blood from a head wound. She hadnt seen him in the skiff. And last of all Asher, not sensible at all. Asher they carried, and laid down on the pier.

Mama, said Rafel. Shed never seen him so tired. So distressed. Mama, I But before she could reach him, before she could reach Asher, Arlin Garrick turned on Mayor Threeve. Arrest this Rafel of Dorana! Now! He murdered my father and Ain Freidin and another Doranen besides!

Stunned, Threeve looked to Sarle Baden. My lord, is that true?

No, it aint b.l.o.o.d.y true! said Rafel, his voice cracking. They drowned. We tried to save em but they drowned. If theres anyone to blame its Garrick and Pintte, for ignoring my da and Arlin hit him. Olken filth! Shut your mouth!

As Rafel shoved Arlin, sending him staggering, nearly sending him into the harbour, Dathne leapt for Asher, sprawled senseless on the wet pier. Threeve shouted an angry protest, Pintte croaked an objection, and Sarle Baden threw up his hands and walked away. Five of the fishermen exchanged looks then pushed to separate Arlin from Rafel.

But the sixth fisherman flung out a pointing hand. Barl save us all! Run!

Two monstrous waterspouts were heading directly for the pier, slashing through the harbour faster than galloping horses.

Dathne looked to the nearest man. Help me!

Ungainly, ungently, they hauled Asher between them by armpit and ankle and began their staggering flight towards the township-end of the pier. Threeve and the other fishermen helped Pintte, Arlin Garrick and Sarle Baden. Rafel refused a.s.sistance, grabbing his fathers weskit to help.

Mama he said, almost tripping. It wasnt murder, I swear. I never I know you never, she panted. Save your breath, Rafe. Tell me later.

Westwailings harbour sh.o.r.e was crowded shoulder to shoulder with folk eager to see what was happening at the reef. Theyd turned the day into a kind of picnic. But now, with disaster struck, with waterspouts and whirlpools whipping up what should have been safe waters, the musicians had fallen silent, the children had been sent home, and voices were raised in anxious dismay.

Then as one they cried outa dreadful shout of fear. Heart hammering, her fingers tight and aching around Ashers ankles, Dathne risked a swift look behind her and saw the twin waterspouts plough through Westwailings fishing fleet. Saw them smash the wooden boats to splinters, toss them in the air like kindling, like toys. Utter ruination in a matter of moments. Wood and canvas rained down on the wave-swamped stone pier.

Barls mercy! she heard Threeve sob. Barl forgive us.

But it was far too late for that.

By a miracle they reached dry land safely, winded and shocked. The crowd backed away, helped by officials with ready truncheons. Ignoring them, caring nowt for what anyone else said or did, Dathne guided Asher to the gra.s.s and knelt beside him. Took his hand in hers and stroked his cold, bloodied face. Rafel knelt opposite, holding his fathers other hand. Somewhere close by, Arlin Garrick was shouting incoherent threats. Sarle Baden was trying to calm him, and Mayor Threeve was calming Fernel Pintte. Dathne ignored all of them. Looked at her son. There was something different about him. Something knife-edged and newly forged, though he was exhausted.

He lifted his gaze. Pain in his eyes, and anger, burning shallow beneath the fear. And she knew.

Oh, Rafel. My sweet boy.

Im sorry, she whispered. We thought it for the best. We thought He looked down. Not now, Mama.

On the gra.s.s between them, Asher moaned softly, then opened his eyes. Dath Hush, she said, tears falling. You hush.

Rafel?

Rafel bent low, his anger thrust suddenly deep. Im here, Da.

Dath, I tried to stop em, Asher whispered. I tried to save em. But they died.

She stroked his cheek. Hush, my love. Its not your fault.

Dath He coughed, weakly. Dath, I reckon were in trouble.

Oh, she wanted to deny it. She wanted to tell him he was wrong.

I know, she said, and pressed her fingers to his lips. But dont think about it. Right now you need to rest. She looked up at Rafel, on his knees, with his deep anger and his surface distress. Therell be time to think about all of it when we get home.

Home, said Asher. Aye. I want to go home.

Rafel She heard her voice break. Rafe But her son wouldnt look at her.

Oh, Asher, Asher. What have we done?

Asher and his family left for Dorana this morning. Did you know?

Seated by the window of his guest house privy parlour, Arlin nodded. Smoothed his blue silk brocade sleeve, as though its wrinkling mattered.

I heard.

Yes. Sarle Baden cleared his throat. His coat was plum purple. No more a mourning colour than blue, but thentheyd not antic.i.p.ated a need for black. Threeve had no grounds to detain them.

Threeve claims he had no grounds to detain them. He shrugged. What else would you expect? Hes Olken.