T know, Mummy.' The little girl had clung to her. 'The darkness monsters came but the old women chased them away.'

Erienne had ceased her rocking.

'The who, Lyanna?'

'The old women. They will always save me.' She had snuggled closer. 'If I'm near them.'

Erienne smiled, her mind made up for her.

'Go back to sleep, sweet,' she had said, resting her back on her pillow and smoothing her hair down. 'Mummy has some things to do in the study. Then perhaps we can go on a little trip away.'

'Night, Mummy.'

'Good night, darling.' Erienne had turned to go and had heard Lyanna whisper something as she reached the door. She'd turned

back but Lyanna wasn't speaking to her. Eyes closed, her daughter was drifting back towards what, Gods willing, would be a calmer sleep, free of nightmares. She had whispered again and, that time, Erienne caught the half-sung words and heard the little giggle as if she were being tickled.

'We're co-ming. We're co-ming.'

Their night-time flight from Dordover soon after still made Erienne shudder, and her memories were of anxiety, fear and the perpetual proximity to failure; though it was now clear that they had never really been in great danger of capture. Eight days in a carriage driven by a silent elven driver preceded their uncomfortable three days in Thornewood. At the time she'd thought that ill-conceived but it had become obvious since that the Guild elves had left very little to chance. There followed a final urgent carriage ride south and east towards Aden before they had taken ship and her cares had eased effortlessly away.

The ship, Ocean Elm, was a tri-masted cutter, just short of one hundred feet from bowsprit to rudder. Sleek and narrow, she was built for speed, her cabin space below decks cramped but comfortable enough. Kept spodessly clean by a crew of thirty elves, Ocean Elm was an attractive ship and felt sturdy underfoot, her dark-brown stained timbers preserved against the salt water and her masts strong but supple.

Erienne, whose experience of ocean sailing was very limited, felt immediately comfortable, and their firm but kind treatment by the busy crew helped the air of security. In their off-duty moments, they delighted in Lyanna's company, the little girl wide-eyed in wonder at their antics on deck, juggling oranges, tumbling, singing and dancing. For her part, Erienne was glad for a while to be somewhere other than the centre of attention.

And so they had rested, drinking in the fresh air, the complex smells of ship and sea, and seeing their guides at last smile as Balaia was left behind them. Ren'erei, their erstwhile driver, had found her voice and introduced her brother, Tryuun. Tryuun had done little more than bow his similarly cropped black hair and flash his deep brown eyes, the left of which, Erienne noted, had a fixed pupil and was heavily bloodshot. The socket around it too, was scarred and she

was determined to ask Ren'erei about it before they reached their destination.

Her opportunity came late one night, four days into the voyage. Supper was over and the cook pots had been stowed, though the ship's carefully netted fires still glimmered. Above them, the sails were full, the wind chasing up cloud to cover the stars. Lyanna was asleep in her bunk and Erienne was leaning on a railing, watching the water speed by beneath them, imagining what might be swimming just below its surface. She heard someone walk to stand near her and looked along to see Ren'erei mimicking her stance.

'Mesmeric, isn't it?' she said.

'Beautiful,' agreed the young elf. She was tanned deeply from a life around the Southern Continent, Calaius, her jet black hair cropped close to her head and into the nape of her neck. She was young, with angled green eyes, leaf-shaped ears sweeping up the sides of her head, and proud, high-boned cheeks. She was standing a few feet away and in the dark her eyes sparkled as they caught the stars' reflection off the water.

'How long until we get there?' asked Erienne,

She shrugged. 'If the winds stay fair, we should see the Ornouth Archipelago before sundown. Then it's a couple of days to shore, no more.'

'And where is "there"? Assuming you can tell me now, that is.' Erienne had been persistent in her questioning during their carriage ride but had learned nothing of any consequence whatever.

Ren'erei smiled. 'Yes, I can tell you now,' she said. 'It is an island deep inside the archipelago, which we call Herendeneth, which means "endless home" in your language. I don't know if it has a common name. There are over two thousand islands in the Ornouth, many not even on a map. To chart the whole area would be the job of more than one lifetime, which is to our benefit. Herendeneth isn't much to look at from the sea, I'm afraid, all cliff and black rock where so many are all sand, lagoons and trees; but it serves our purpose.'

'Sounds lovely,' said Erienne drily.

'Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful inland. But if you want to get there you have to know the way. The reefs show no mercy.'

'Oh, I see.'

'You don't, but you will.' Ren'erei chuckled. 'None can reach us that don't know the channel.'

'They can fly.'

'It is just barren from the sky, though appearances are deceptive.'

'Got it all sewn up, I see,' said Erienne, her natural scepticism surfacing.

'For three hundred years and more now, yes,' returned Ren'erei. She paused and Erienne could feel the elf studying her face. 'You miss him, don't you?'

Ren'erei's words startled her but there it was. However subconsciously, she'd held out the hope that Denser would be able to follow them eventually but now… Gods falling, he wasn't a sailor and with the island's identity apparently disguised from the air as well… she supposed she shouldn't be surprised.

But the truth was, she felt isolated, away from everything she knew and she missed him despite the delight that was Lyanna. She missed his touch, the sound of his voice, the feel of his breath on her neck, the strength he brought to everything he did and the support lie showed her so unflinchingly, despite their long separations. And though she knew her decision had been right, the unknowables gnawed at her confidence and spoke of unseen dangers for her daughter. Denser would shore her up. They would shore each other up, only he wasn't here and she had to dig deep into her considerable reserves of strength to keep believing.

Ren'erei helped. She was a friendly face. Respectful and understanding. Erienne made a note to keep her as close as she could for as long as she could. The Gods only knew what she would face on Herendeneth.

'You know we would welcome him but there are others who have less sound motives for wanting to find us besides those who have already tried,' she continued, sparing her the need to answer. 'They hunt us day and night and have done so for more than ten years. They and their enemies would all see us fall.'

Erienne frowned. It didn't make sense. Surely the Dordovans were the only ones who pursued them still.

'Who?'

'Witch Hunters,' said Ren'erei. 'Black Wings.'

The strength went from Erienne's legs and she sagged down,

clutching at the rail. With astonishing swiftness, Ren'erei moved across the deck and caught her. Erienne couldn't find the words to thank her. Her pulse was pounding in her throat, the blood roaring in her ears, her mind releasing the memories she'd buried so carefully years before.

She saw it all again. Tasted the atmosphere of the Black Wings' casde, the stench of fear in her twin boys' room, the hideous torture of separation from the sons she loved and the sneer of Captain Travers, the leader of the Witch Hunters. Again and again she saw the blood from their slit throats spattered over the bed clothes, their faces and the walls. Her boys. Her beautiful boys. Slaughtered for a risk they didn't pose, by men who were terrified of magic because they could not understand it. Again, she felt their loss, just like it was yesterday, just like every day.