With these words, they set off, without a backward glance.

'Poignant,' said Ulaume in a cynical tone.

'Hurry,' Tel-an-Kaa said. 'Get into the boat. I'm picking up impressions of two distinct Gelaming groups. They are pa.s.sing in and out of this reality continually. They will find us very soon if we don't leave here.'

Zackala helped them aboard. It was difficult to see what he looked like, because a black scarf hid his head and most of his face. His garments too were black and he did not speak. As soon as they were safely seated, he untied the boat and began rowing powerfully out to sea. Flick kept his eyes fixed on the sh.o.r.e. It was happening so quickly, it was surreal. Only minutes ago, they'd been part of a larger company and now everything had changed. He felt dizzy with it.

Lileem was sitting beside him. Now, she leaned close and murmured, 'Look at the cliff top, to the right of the town.'

A shudder went through him, but he did what she said. He saw a lone white horse up there, standing so still it could have been carved from marble. A figure was mounted upon it, swathed in a pale hooded cloak that flapped in the wind. Flick felt as if the eyes concealed by the hood could see every detail of the pa.s.sengers in the boat. The horse might take off at any moment and gallop a road of light across the sea to them. He was filled with an emotion he could not name, but which made him want to both laugh and cry hysterically.

'The others can't see it,' Lileem whispered. 'I think the image is for you.'

'Why?' Flick hissed.

'Don't tell Mima,' Lileem said. 'She must never know. That is her brother Pellaz.'

In those days, but for hara like the Gelaming, most Wraeththu had recourse only to primitive methods of transport. Natural reserves of fuel might remain deep within the earth, but few tribes were yet organised enough to mine them. Powerful hara closely guarded remaining stocks. Much of the sophistication of earlier human culture had disappeared. In the beginning, Wraeththu were little more than children, fierce and primitive barbarians, who were so fuelled with blood l.u.s.t to destroy the old order they didn't for one minute think about how they would live once the fighting was over, when there was no one left to fight but other hara. Many skills had been lost or had to be relearned. What did education matter when your only thought was to run wild through the night, celebrating, or perhaps trying to forget, the impossible excesses of your new being?

Therefore, among many other difficulties, crossing the great ocean that Wraeththu called the Girdle of Tiamat was a lengthy, if not hazardous, undertaking. Once, humans had flown over it in silver birds in a matter of hours, or great engine-powered ships had cleaved its fretful waters in days, but now the best vessels were modelled on ancient sailing ships from the past and the journey could take weeks. It was fortunate that once hara began to grow up, the best among them discovered they were resourceful, creative and worked well with their hands. Eventually, they would go on to create machines and vessels far superior to anything humanity had invented, because they could pluck the very stuff of the universe from the source and shape it to their dreams, such as Thiede had done with his sedim sedim. But most hara were still working their way up, experimenting with designs and mastering their crafts, and a reliable and efficient alternative power source lay some distance into the future.

The ship, 'Night's Arrow', was of Roselane design, and its crew were harish. Shamans among them were adept in affecting the weather, singing to the sea to quiet its tempers and calling up the winds to speed the journey. This was the harish equivalent of powerful engines and navigation systems. It seemed strange that the Roselane had developed the skill of shipwrighting, seeing as their territory was land-locked, but they had a strong presence in the domain of the Emunah, which extended widely around the Sea of Shadows and the smaller Sea of Arel that was connected to it.

Tel-an-Kaa explained to her companions that they must cross the Girdle, heading northeast, skirting round the eastern continent. There was a quicker way to Jaddayoth, which would mean going southeast past the vast temperate country of Almagabra, pa.s.sing right through Gelaming waters, which the Zigane didn't think was advisable. So, once they had made landfall on the eastern continent, a long and arduous journey lay ahead of them. They would have to cross the lands north of Almagabra and head towards Jaddayoth, which lay around the cold Sea of Shadows in an ancient landscape. Once at Jaddayoth's border, they must sail down the Eragante River, pa.s.sing through Elhmen, Gimrah and Maudrah territory, make their way to the Maudrah port of Morla on the Sea of Arel, and from there, journey upriver to Roselane. It seemed such an impossibly long way away, with so many dangers in between. Flick and Ulaume discussed the fact they must accept that travelling was to be their way of life for a considerable time to come.

Flick did not tell Ulaume what he'd seen on the cliff top as they'd left Megalithica. Had it really been Pellaz?

Lileem had been sure it was. 'I carry the carving of him in my pocket all the time,' she said. 'When we were the in the boat, the stone went very hot. I could feel it right through my trousers and I was compelled to look at the cliff top. Don't you think that means it was him?'

Flick wasn't sure, but if it had been Pellaz, he had watched them leave. He knew they were on the ocean, and while Flick could not help but feel strangely warmed by the Tigron's lone vigil of their departure, he knew it could spell danger also. What kind of creatures had Pellaz and Seel become, thinking they could interfere in other hara's lives like this? They were no better than Uigenna.

Mima had no intention of keeping to Tel-an-Kaa's plan of leaving Flick and Ulaume in the dark about the Kamagrian. While the Zigane might have to wait to a.s.sure herself they were to be trusted, Mima had no such reservations and neither did Lileem. Tel-an-Kaa was always around, so it was difficult to talk in private, but two days after their sea journey had begun, the Zigane went to her cabin to commune with her tribe and Mima and Lileem used this opportunity to speak with their companions. They gathered in the cabin Flick shared with Ulaume, while outside the Roselane shamans sang to the wind like birds.

Ulaume had not taken well to ocean travel and felt wretched. He said he'd been sick so many times, he'd soon be vomiting up internal organs, which none of his companions were particularly delighted to hear. While Lileem offered him hands-on healing, Mima repeated what Tel-an-Kaa had told her. Occasionally, Lileem would add a comment or an opinion, but for the most part let Mima narrate the tale. They had to impart all the information very quickly, before Tel-an-Kaa reappeared.

At the end of Mima's story, Flick simply asked a typical Flick question: 'How do you feel about this?'

'Pleased in some ways,' she replied, 'but also wary of us being dragged into something against our will. The Zigane has very clear views about Lileem's and my future.'

'Do you want to go to Roselane?'

'I'm curious,' Mima replied. 'I have to be, but I'm not sure I'll want to stay there once my curiosity has been satisfied.'

'By which time it might be difficult to leave,' Flick said. 'I hate all this, other hara or in your case, parazha making decisions about our lives. We were perfectly happy living on the Serpent until the Kamagrian started shouting in Lee's head.'

'We have a right to know about ourselves,' Lileem said. 'Don't we?'

'Of course.' Flick shook his head. 'I don't know. Are the Kamagrian hostile to Wraeththu? What are we getting into?'

'I don't think they are,' Mima said. 'Although I get the distinct impression there is some friction between Roselane and Immanion.'

'I'd expect nothing else,' Ulaume said in a m.u.f.fled voice from beneath Lileem's hands.

She lifted them from his face. 'Better?'

Ulaume sat up, grimacing. 'Yes, much, thank you.' He rubbed the back of his neck, stretched. 'I think we should go along with the Zigane for now. As you said, you have a right to know everything about yourselves. We're resourceful, and we're not sheep. We've already dealt with many tricky situations. This can be no worse, surely.'

'Except we don't have Terez to help us,' Lileem said, a remark that conjured an awkward and tense silence. 'He won't know where we are any more. Will he?'

'We need to find out about ourselves, our strengths, our abilities,' Mima said. 'One day, I will go to Immanion, I swear it, and my life does not lie in the hands of others.'

'Don't you want to see him again?' Lileem said to Mima. 'Of course, he might already be in Immanion. He said he'd go there. In that case, he'll be on the same continent as us. So he might be able to...'

Mima had fixed her with a cold stare. 'Be quiet. That's quite enough! As far as I'm concerned, I have only one brother, and I even have issues with him. I don't want to hear another word about anyhar else.' She was painfully aware how not one of them believed her, and she didn't truly believe herself either. Unfortunately, there was a lump of pain in the way of rational thought, and Lileem was probably right: Terez could not track them down once an ocean lay between them, unless he'd already crossed it himself.

The worst aspect of such a long journey was the boredom. There were only so many times you could sit playing cards for hours on end, without feeling you'd like to rip every one into little pieces. The tortured writhing of the ship in the late Fall seas did nothing to make the experience more pleasant.

At first, Flick and Lileem had harboured hopes that the Roselane navigators might share some of their occult secrets with them Lileem especially savoured the thought of being able to conjure up sea spirits but they were a closed society, and while not rude, made it clear their most useful knowledge was not for the uninitiated. They were, however, more than happy to share their folklore with strangers. Among the Roselane, the King of the Winds is the mighty Chairom, Lord of the North. Beneath his rule are Ishliya, in the East, Tarsis in the West and Kerkutha in the South. Their sons are Nayutha in the southwest, Abathur in the north west, Muzania in the north east and Gauriel in the southeast. Chairom is feared most among harish sailors, because his temperament is unpredictable. Shamans control him through song and also through whistling. When they wish to call upon the winds, they whistle a certain refrain, supposedly pleasurable to the wind concerned. Lileem was keen to learn how to do exactly that, but the shamans only laughed and told her she would have to train in the Roselane city of Shilalama for many years to earn that privilege.

During the journey Zackala remained an enigmatic presence, who spent most of his time with the crew. Both Flick and Ulaume privately wanted to question him and discover whether he was the same har who had once known Cal, but he obviously didn't want to get to know them.

One night, Tel-an-Kaa gathered everyone together to reveal the devastating information about what Lileem and Mima actually were. Ulaume and Flick had to act surprised, ask the right questions. Mima had already discussed with them how they should react to the Zigane's news, and it seemed she had prepared them well. Tel-an-Kaa did not appear displeased with their responses.

This kind of behaviour galled Ulaume, who liked to speak bluntly when it suited him. He wasn't disposed to accommodating others if he didn't feel like it. His initial opinion of Tel-an-Kaa had changed somewhat. She was a deceiver, and Ulaume knew enough about deception to remain on high alert around the Kamagrian. If she could lie so convincingly, and with more than words, about the simple state of her being, what other political lies could she weave? Ulaume found it difficult to believe the Kamagrian were the retiring, solitude-loving ascetics that Tel-an-Kaa described. She, for example, was far too worldly to fit into that picture. As with Wraeththu, it might be that the majority of parazha were fed a strict diet of things to believe in, while their self-styled leaders did and thought as they pleased. Ulaume was quite interested to find out if his a.s.sumption was correct.

Although he didn't speak of it in detail to Flick, Ulaume found it hard to accept everything Tel-an-Kaa had said to them. Mima was perhaps as cynical, but Lileem appeared to embrace the concept of Kamagrian wholeheartedly. Ulaume couldn't help wondering if the insistence that Wraeththu and Kamagrian could never come together in aruna was not a simple tactic of division. Mima now felt relaxed enough to describe some of what she'd experienced with Chelone, and even she was not totally convinced by Tel-an-Kaa's dire warnings. Something unusual had happened, and she felt she hadn't the experience to deal with it, and aruna with Lileem was far more comfortable, but one day the issue should be examined properly.

Throughout the journey, the shamans on Night's Arrow had called to Tarsis, the West wind, and he blew the ship all the way to the sh.o.r.es of the far land known now as Attaris, the domain of winter. Before land was in sight, but when birds could already be seen wheeling high above, the sea became calm. This was unnatural in those waters and the shamans set about at once their whistling and singing, but Tarsis had turned his back on them and had taken his sons with him.

The air was very cold and everyone huddled on deck, scanning the horizon. Zackala joined Ulaume and Flick at the prow, and for the first time deigned to speak to them. Although his head remained covered in a black scarf, his face was now visible: a dark countenance with a certain rakish gypsy appeal to it. 'This is unnatural,' he said. 'Prepare yourselves for Gelaming activity.' The prospect appeared to delight him.

'Have they calmed the wind?' Flick asked.

Zackala glanced at the sky. 'More than that. They will wait for night to fall. We must hope our wind-singers are capable of combating it.' He directed a wolfish grin at them and departed.

A strange twilight crept in from the west. Ulaume could feel all the small hairs on his body twitching, and he had to keep scratching his head. 'Now might be a good time to reacquaint yourself with the dehara,' he said to Flick.

Flick shook his head. 'No. The ones I know of are inappropriate in this situation.'

'Aruhani is your patron...'

'He is not!'

Ulaume raised his hands. 'It was just a suggestion.'

Flick frowned. 'I know. Sorry. I just feel odd.' He gripped Ulaume's arm. 'Look! Did you see that?'

Ulaume looked to where Flick was pointing along the deck. 'No. What?'

'A black, scurrying thing.' He grimaced. 'Nothing. It's my imagination. The wind-singers told us that the black djinn come aboard ships before a tempest strikes.'

'That is good news,' Ulaume said laconically. 'There's nothing there, Flick.' He peered up at the thick clouds overhead. 'I don't sense a storm. Something else. It will be a portal opening again.'

The eerie song of the shamans filled the cold motionless air. Ulaume could not see them from where he stood, and they might as well have been mer-creatures, their voices rising up the darkest depths of the ocean. He shuddered.

A call came from the high rigging. 'Land, ho!'

'Thank Aru,' Flick murmured.

Ulaume thought it best not to comment upon Flick's choice of oath. 'We're not that close,' he said. 'I won't be happy until there's ground beneath our feet. At least, then, we can run.' He could not see land ahead, but his eyes were not trained to see it from this distance and the light was bad.

'Somehar has lit a lamp above the sails,' Flick said. 'It's weird. Must be a spirit lamp or something.'

A flickering blue white flame could be seen at the top of the mast. 'Nohar has lit that,' Ulaume said.

Flick was silent for a moment. 'No, they haven't,' he said softly. 'It is the cloud fire.'

'Don't tell me: it's a bad omen,' Ulaume said.

Flick smiled. 'Not exactly, but it means strange influences are about.'

'We should go to the others.'

Flick nodded. 'Yes.'

Lileem was with Tel-an-Kaa and Mima on the main deck. The Zigane was the most anxious Lileem had ever seen her, which did not bode well. The Gelaming were coming and soon they'd cut open the sky and pour down like icy rain. Lileem shuddered as she looked at the thick cloud. It was too congested, as if the sky itself was infected with disease.

Ulaume and Flick came to join them and Tel-an-Kaa said, 'The Tigron searches for you most earnestly, my friends.' The comment sounded like a criticism.

'I don't know why,' Flick said. 'He hasn't bothered before.'

'I just hope Immanion hasn't caught scent of Lileem or Mima,' said the Zigane.

Flick grimaced. 'I don't think it's that.'

Neither did Lileem, but she kept silent. All too often now, she was keeping silent. She felt like a watcher, observing life from the outside. It pleased her to think that none of her friends really knew her. It pleased her to think that one day she would know herself.

A breeze started up and it smelled sour. It came from the north and it felt unnaturally warm and clammy against the skin. Soon, Lileem thought, it would happen. Her fingers reached inside her coat pocket for the carving of the Tigron. It was cold as ice. It isn't him, It isn't him, she thought. she thought. It isn't Pellaz coming for us. It isn't Pellaz coming for us.

Lightning threaded its spiky way through the clouds, illuminating a dense pulsing core to the bubbling clouds. They resembled the fruit of dry rot, which Lileem had discovered in certain parts of the white house: a sticky spherical gauze of livid yellow and sickly white that looked as if it would explode in a smoke of a million poisonous spores if you poked it. When the Gelaming came, would she and her friends have to fight them? They had come so far. They couldn't just surrender themselves now surely. 'Will you hide us again?' she said to Tel-an-Kaa.

'I will do what I can,' she replied, 'although the sea is not my natural element. If I can hide just one, it will be you.'

This did not sound encouraging.

It was almost as if the Gelaming were teasing them, because for over an hour, the impending portal merely hung above them in the sky, emitting weird pulses of light and occasionally grumbling with thunder. The Roselane shamans uttered mournful cries to the winds and to the creatures of the sea, but it did not appear they were heard.

They are trying to break our spirits, Lileem thought. Lileem thought. It is so strange. Why are we that important to them? It is so strange. Why are we that important to them?

Then, the clouds opened. The sky filled with a heavenly white light, a radiance so brilliant that everything the sea, the ship, its pa.s.senger and crew were bleached of colour. Everything appeared spectral, as if made of light itself.

Tel-an-Kaa began to mutter beneath her breath, but she didn't suggest that any of them join her in her magic. She put a hand upon Lileem's shoulder and the centre of her palm radiated an energy that was neither hot nor cold, but something of both. Lileem squirmed away and the Zigane looked at her sharply. In the strange light, her eyes were pinky red, like an albino's. I won't let you just protect me, I won't let you just protect me, Lileem thought clearly, trusting the Zigane would pick it up. Lileem thought clearly, trusting the Zigane would pick it up. We are all in this together. We are all in this together.

'Where are the horses?' Mima asked, squinting up at the sky. 'Is anything coming out of there?'

'Not yet,' Tel-an-Kaa said. Her gaze was still on Lileem.

The shamans of the ship had gathered on the main deck in a circle, and now uttered bizarre cries that shattered around them. Shards of sound caught in Lileem's hair. She could taste the words. It wouldn't work. Nothing they could produce would combat this power.

Ghostly shapes began to spiral out of the sky, circling the ship. They could have been horses, but it was difficult to tell. They brought with them a strong wind that smelled of flowers, of trampled greenery with a strange metallic undertaste. The ship began to roll upon the newly agitated waters. Its timbers groaned as if in pain.

Lileem was thrown against the side of the ship and Flick pulled her back. 'What can we do?' she said to him. 'What?'

'Nothing. We can do nothing.'

The ship was surrounded by what looked like a white twister. It had no form, and was sensed rather than seen with the physical eyes, but Lileem caught the impression of flying manes, of sharp hooves slicing the air. There were no riders though.

The Roselane shamans were now shrieking out their invocations, to no avail. The ship began to turn, slowly at first, but with increasing speed. The waters around it were becoming a whirlpool.

'They mean to take us!' Tel-an-Kaa cried. 'They will carry the entire ship up to the portal.'

'Can we jump overboard?' Ulaume demanded, and his voice now sounded thin and distant. s.p.a.ce had become distorted.

'Into that?' Flick said, indicating the turbulent waters. 'There is a vortex around us. How can we escape that?'

'We must do something!' Mima snapped. 'We can't just stand here and wait for them to take us.'

'This is your brother's doing,' Tel-an-Kaa said to her coldly. 'You might as well prepare yourself for a reunion, though I doubt it will be happy.'

Lileem was having trouble with thinking clearly. Her mind felt muzzy, as congested as the clouds had been. Her fingers curled around the carving in her pocket. It was still cold. Maybe the Tigron had sent hara out in pursuit of them again, and was sitting at home on his throne in Immanion, fully aware of what was happening. But maybe he wasn't responsible at all. If he'd wanted to capture them, he could have done so at Atagatisel. Hadn't the Zigane mentioned at the time that she'd detected two two groups of Gelaming near them? The thought occurred to Lileem then that Pellaz might have been trying to help them escape. Was this just wishful thinking? If it was, then it would be a big mistake to try and use the little carving to contact him. It would be very stupid to consider that, because a portal to Immanion was open, it might be possible to send out a strong message and ask for his help again. groups of Gelaming near them? The thought occurred to Lileem then that Pellaz might have been trying to help them escape. Was this just wishful thinking? If it was, then it would be a big mistake to try and use the little carving to contact him. It would be very stupid to consider that, because a portal to Immanion was open, it might be possible to send out a strong message and ask for his help again.

Don't do it, she told herself. But already, she had closed her eyes. Her fingers gripped the carving firmly. Even in the midst of this chaos, she found it was possible to focus her thoughts. She imagined them as a pure beam of light shooting up through the centre of the vortex, going beyond s.p.a.ce and time, and somehow finding its way to Immanion. She imagined Pellaz sitting upon a great throne in a huge empty chamber. He was like a statue. she told herself. But already, she had closed her eyes. Her fingers gripped the carving firmly. Even in the midst of this chaos, she found it was possible to focus her thoughts. She imagined them as a pure beam of light shooting up through the centre of the vortex, going beyond s.p.a.ce and time, and somehow finding its way to Immanion. She imagined Pellaz sitting upon a great throne in a huge empty chamber. He was like a statue.

'Pellaz, hear me,' she cried in her mind. 'I call to you, Tigron, you who are lord of all Wraeththu. Hear me and come to my aid. We are your children and we in danger. Extend your powerful arm and smite our enemies.'

She realised she was addressing him as if he was a dehar, but if the stories were true, and he was a har who'd risen from the dead, perhaps this was entirely appropriate.

The maddened waters were rising, and the entire world was held in the grip of chaotic elements. All around Lileem, hara were being thrown around the ship. She could hear their cries, distantly. Some crouched low, clinging on to whatever could keep them steady. Others had gone below deck. The shamans were screaming, in rage and helplessness.

'Pellaz!' Lileem cried aloud. 'Hear me and approach! I command you!'

She knew the others couldn't hear her. She had stepped out of time into a different place, an otherworld realm. She was in a building that looked like a temple, standing before a throne. In it, sat the Tigron and he was was a statue, made of golden stone. He was hundreds of feet high and Lileem was so small, like an ant, before him. 'Help us, Pellaz,' she said. 'Help us.' a statue, made of golden stone. He was hundreds of feet high and Lileem was so small, like an ant, before him. 'Help us, Pellaz,' she said. 'Help us.'

There was a sound like mountains grinding together and the mighty statue raised one hand. Lileem heard his voice, inside her head. 'Bring forth darkness to combat the endless light. Call upon the force that is strong in your heart and mind. I see this thing. You have wrenched it from the cauldron of creation.'

Lileem heard an almighty thud, then another. The ground in this strange unearthly temple was shaking. Bits of stone fell down from the ceiling, which was invisible high above. Lileem turned. Something approached. Something huge. She glanced at the statue of the Tigron, but it was motionless. She heard a monstrous hiss and turned again at once.

A monstrous image of Aruhani filled a high doorway behind her. The dehar radiated dark power. He was the most beautiful and terrible thing she had ever imagined. He stamped a foot and the ground shook. He lunged forward and hissed again, and a great red tongue lashed out.