formidable force, all in the black uniforms of the marines. Going to the other side of the cage, he could see the smoking remains of the

Kormados lying in the shallows like the skeleton of some wretched leviathan.

What happened to her crew? he wondered. They'd even burned the longboats.

He didn't recognize the pair of soldiers who brought him breakfast a short time later. He spoke to them in the hope that they spoke some Skalan. If they did, they didn't let on.

Giving him a scornfully direct look, they passed some remark between them, spat on the ground, and walked off a few paces to join the other guards assigned to watch him.

Alec hadn't really expected better from them.

Sitting down beside Thero, he put a bit of bread in the young wizard's hand. When Thero did nothing, Alec said, "Eat."

Thero raised the bread to his mouth and took a bite. Crumbs fell into his beard as he slowly chewed and swallowed. Alec brushed them off and gave him a cup of water.

"Drink," he ordered wearily.

The column formed up at midday and set off north along the coast. The northwest coast of Plenimar was wild, rugged country. The track they followed wound in and out of swamps, meadows, and forests of pine and oak, always with the shadow of mountains on their right and the sea in sight on their left. The farther north they moved, the more forbidding the coastline became. Rocky shingle gave way to red granite ledges and cliffs.

A cold, constant wind sighed through the trees, stirring the twisted branches of the jack pines and bringing Alec the sweet scents of the forest. It was colder here than in Skala, but he guessed that it must be sometime in mid-Lithion by now.

The nail was his talisman, his one remaining secret and symbol of hope. It was too large to keep in his mouth without attracting notice, but he didn't dare let it out of his possession, even to hide it in the mattress tick. Instead, he pierced it securely into the folds of his clothing. Recalling the incident on the ship, he was careful to keep it hidden from Thero, in case the necromancers or dyrmagnos decided to use the wizard to spy on him again.

So, keeping it hidden as best he could, Alec bided his time, waiting for some opportunity to present itself.

Guards surrounded the cart day and night, but even without their presence he'd have hesitated to attempt picking the lock;

Ashnazai's little warning demonstration with the bars suggested that such an effort would be futile and probably dangerous. It was a frustrating situation. He recognized the type of lock securing the door and knew the nail would have been more than adequate for the job.

It was clear from the first that Vargul Ashnazai was relishing his new commission. He had none of Mardus' deceptive smoothness, but contented himself with riding along beside the cart like a dour specter.

Alec did his best to ignore him as the bear cart rolled and jounced northward along the rutted coastal trail. Nonetheless, he was often aware of the necromancer's gloating gaze.

Their first night on the road the column camped in the shelter of an ancient pine grove. The sound of surf was loud. Looking west past the huge, straight trunks, Alec could see the white spume of the waves as they thundered against the ledges. It reminded him of the sea sounds of his dreams, but it was not quite the same.

As darkness fell, another cheer went up and he guessed that the comet must be visible again, although he couldn't see up through the branches. Much later, he heard agonized screams in the darkness and knew that the sacrificial ritual was being carried out again somewhere nearby. Even the guards around the cart shifted uneasily and several made warding signs.

The cries went on longer this time. Feeling cold and sick, Alec moved closer to Thero's sleeping form and covered his head with his cloak.

Less than a year before, a younger, more innocent Alec had lain awake all night in Asengai's dungeon, trembling and weeping at every fresh cry that echoed from the torturer's room.

Weeks of death and torture in Mardus' company had almost emptied him of such emotion. Pressing his hands over his ears, he drifted into a restless doze with the survivor's uneasy prayer of relief: This time, at least, it wasn't me.

In his nightmare there was no invisible pursuer this time, only the hoarse screams leading him on, faster and faster. With tears of frustration coursing down his cheeks, he gripped the useless arrow shaft and ran until his chest ached. Rounding a corner, he staggered to a halt, his way blocked by a section of collapsed wall.

A thrill of hope shot through him at the sight of the ray of sunlight streaming in through a jagged break high in the stonework. From outside came the familiar rush and rumble of surf.

Clambering up the pile of broken stone, he squeezed out through the hole—and found himself standing alone on a granite ledge surrounded by thick fog that shrouded the view on all sides. Overhead, the faint disk of the noonday sun burned through the mist.

The crash of the surf was loud now, so loud that he couldn't tell which direction it was coming from. If he moved too far, went the wrong direction in the mist, he'd surely fall off the ledge. Crouching low, he moved slowly along on all fours until his hands touched water. The waves surged around him suddenly, flipping him on his back and tumbling him across the rocks. When the foaming waters receded again, the ledges were covered for as far as he could see with corpses of drowned men and women, their blue-white skin gleaming in the shadowless light.

The sea sound was fainter now, and over it Alec could hear harsh grunts and heavy, wet tearing sounds coming toward him in the fog. Terrified, naked, unarmed, he crouched among the corpses. Even the headless arrow was gone, carried off by the sea.

Soon he caught sight of weird, humped forms moving among the dead. The grunting and snuffling grew louder, closer.

Suddenly something grabbed him from behind in an icy grip, pulling him to his feet. Alec couldn't turn his head far enough to see what it was, but the putrid stench that rolled off it made him gag.

"Join the feast, boy, was a gloating, clotted voice whispered close to his ear. Struggling out of that loathsome grasp, Alec whirled to see what the creature was, but there was nothing there.

"Join the feast!" the same voice said again, still behind him no matter how fast he turned.

Stumbling backward, he fell into a heap of bloated corpses. No matter how he struggled he couldn't get up; every move enmeshed him more in a tangle of flaccid limbs.

"Aura Elustri malrei!" he screamed, flailing wildly.

"Join the feast! was the voice howled triumphantly.

Then the sun went black.

Alec jerked awake, still smelling the terrible death stench of the dream. A plump slice of moon visible through the branches told him it was still far from morning.

Hugging his knees miserably, Alec took a deep breath, but the air smelled fouler every moment.

"Oh, Alec, I'm so frightened!"

Looking up in amazement, Alec saw Cilia crouched a few feet away. Illuminated by some ghostly inner light, she looked imploringly at him. Ghost or not, he was too relieved to see her whole again to be frightened.

"What are you doing here?" he asked softly, praying she wouldn't disappear as suddenly as she'd come.

"I don't know." A tear slid slowly down her cheek. "I've been lost for so long! I can't find Father or Grandmother anywhere. What's happened, Alec? Where are we?"

She looked so real that he took off his cloak and placed it around her shoulders. She pulled it around herself gratefully and leaned against him, feeling very solid and real. For a moment he simply knelt next to her, trying hard not to question her presence. At last, however, he pulled back a little and looked down at the top of her head resting against his chest.