"That's 'er," he said proudly, nodding over one shoulder as he rowed them toward a sleek, twin-masted raider. The Green Lady sported fighting platforms fore and aft. Even to Alec's untutored eye there was no mistaking her prime purpose.

"Bilairy's Balls, what's that supposed to be?" Seregil asked as they crossed beneath her prow. Fitted under the bowsprit was the painted statue of a woman.

"Figurehead," Welken replied. "Lots of the new ships has 'em. Said to bring luck. Captain Rhal got the best carver in Iolos to do our lady there; she's even got a real golden ring on her finger with a great red stone winking in it.

Captain says her round belly'll bring us a full hold."

Dark hair streamed over the woman's shoulders and the carved skirts of her emerald-green gown flowed back from a rounded, pregnant belly. One outstretched hand pointed ahead; the other lay modestly over her heart.

Alec broke into a broad grin as he squinted up at the painted wooden face; it was not fine work, but the resemblance to Seregil was obvious to anyone who'd seen him playing a Mycenian gentlewoman aboard the Darter.

Still staring up, Seregil swore pungently under his breath.

Alec stifled a snort of laughter and asked innocently, "Does she have a name?"

"Oh, aye. Captain calls her Lady Gwethelyn."

"It suits her," Alec observed, still fighting to keep a straight face.

"Charming," muttered Seregil.

Climbing a rope ladder, they found Rhal waiting for them on deck. After a brief tour, he ushered them belowdecks to his aft cabin. Though by no means luxurious, it was a far cry from the cramped quarters he'd entertained them in aboard the Darter.

"I hope that figurehead of yours brings you luck," Seregil remarked dryly, taking a chair.

"Aye, and I don't doubt we'll be needing it soon," Rhal said, pouring wine for them. "The weather is settling out early this year. With the old Overlord dead, there isn't much to hold the Plenimarans back now. Of course, his son Estmar isn't Overlord yet. According to Plenimaran custom, there's a month of official mourning before he can be crowned. That should give us another few weeks."

Seregil shook his head, frowning. "I wouldn't count on it. There have been rumors of Plenimaran scouts sighted as far west as the Folcwine River."

This had come as troubling news, Alec reflected.

The swift— moving units of the Queen's Horse Guard were scouting there, too, but there'd been no word from Beka in weeks.

"Well, whatever happens, the Lady and her crew are ready," Rhal assured them stoutly. "She sailed easy as a swan coming up from Macar and as you saw, we're fitted out with grapples, catapults, and fire baskets. When we set off raiding I'll have twenty archers among my crew and ten more hired on special."

"Impressive. When do you sail?" Rhal stroked his dark beard. "Soon as we get the Queen's Mark."

"The only thing that separates privateers from pirates," Seregil interjected for Alec's benefit.

"That, and the percentage of the take appropriated for the royal treasury," Rhal added. "I figure we'll do coasting trade until the war breaks out in earnest; goods loads, transporting soldiers, that sort of thing. The crew needs a proper sea run.

Word is there's already plenty of activity down around the Inner Sea and the Strait, lots of fat Plenimaran merchant ships carrying supplies and gold up toward Nanta. And of course, I stand ready to honor our bargain, though I don't see how you'll find me if you need me."

"We thought of that," Alec said, flipping him a silver medallion. "It's magicked. Just hang it up in here somewhere and a wizard friend of ours can sight off it wherever you are."

Rhal studied the emblem of Illior stamped into the face of the disk. "This has a lucky feel to it, too, and we can use all of that we can get."

"Then the best of it to you," said Seregil, rising to go.

"I hope your ship's belly is as full as your figurehead's before long."

Rhal scratched his head sheepishly. "Oh, you noticed that, did you? She was a fine-looking woman, that Gwethelyn. Thinking back to that night I caught you out, I don't know if I was more angry or disappointed. But in the end I'd say meeting you brought me luck, so there she is. The Green Lady's a fine ship and she'll do us all proud."

Since they were already dressed for the part, Alec and Seregil put in a suppertime appearance at Wheel Street, then slipped back to the Cockerel after dark. Once there, Seregil went straight to his room and rummaged out his tattered beggar's rags.

"Are you going out tonight?" asked Alec, leaning in the doorway as Seregil changed clothes.

"There are some thieves and nightrunners I want to speak with. I'm not likely to find them in daylight. I probably won't be back before you go, so get some rest and leave early. Before I go, though, let's hear what you're going to tell Micum. Things happened pretty fast today. I want to be sure you've got everything straight."

Alec recited as best he could what Seregil had told him about the prophecy and dreams. Seregil made one or two corrections, then nodded approval.

"Just right. I don't know what Micum will make of all this but

least he'll know what's in the wind."

Clapping on his old felt hat, he stepped past Alec and began dusting himself with ashes from the hearth.

"I'll come back as soon as I've talked to him," said Alec, "I could be back by nightfall."

"There's no need. Stay the night and come back in daylight."

Alec opened his mouth to protest further, but Seregil forestalled him with an upraised hand. "I

mean it, Alec. If we are in danger, then the more care we take the better. I don't want you getting caught out in some lonely place after dark."

Still slouching unhappily in the doorway, Alec frowned down at his boots. The truth was, he suddenly didn't like the thought of leaving Seregil alone here, either, though he knew better than to say so.

Seregil seemed to guess his thoughts just the same.

Adjusting a greasy patch over one eye, he came over and grasped Alec by the shoulders. "I'll be all right. And I'm not shutting you out of anything, either."

Despite the patch, tangled hair, and ridiculous old hat that partially obscured his friend's features, Alec heard the warm earnestness in his voice clearly enough.

"I know," he sighed. "You missed a spot."

Reaching over, Alec smeared ashes over a bit of clean skin just under Seregil's right cheekbone. His friend's one visible eye widened noticeably.

Strange feelings stirred again, and Alec felt himself blush.

Seregil held his gaze a moment, then cleared his throat gruffly. "Thanks. We don't want any telltale signs of cleanliness giving me away, do we? I'll take a run through the stable dung heap before I go, just to make sure I've got the right odor about me. Take care."

"You, too." Alec felt another twinge of unease as Seregil headed out the door. "Luck in the shadows, Seregil," he called after him.

Seregil looked back with a crooked grin. "And to you."

Left to himself, Alec set about packing the small bundle for his journey. But he soon found himself repeatedly packing and unpacking the same few items as his thoughts wandered over the harried events of the day, and his strange unease over Seregil's departure.

That night Alec's nightmare returned, but this time there was more to it.

In the end, when he turned to look for his pursuer, blocks of stone slid out of the wall beside him, tumbling to the floor with a hollow crash. Gripping the headless arrow, he forced himself to go to the opening in the wall and look through. He could see nothing but darkness beyond, but he could hear a new sound, one that was at once as ordinary and as inexplicably terrifying as the sight of the simple arrow shaft.