'Wait!' I yelled pointlessly. I looked at Shiv and blinked as I saw the complicated knots unravelling themselves under his hand. Ryshad helped him flip the boat right way up and then ran to back up Aiten, who was closing with the two leading Elietimm.

'Dast's teeth!' Since Shiv was getting the boat into the water rapidly enough, I ran after the two bloodthirsty idiots. Ryshad went for the sergeant and Fatty was backing off with an expression of horror so I looked for an opening to help Aiten, who was hacking down the guard of the remaining two foot soldiers.

A guttural hiss alerted me to the officer, who was looking up from his agony with hatred in his eyes. I stared at him and froze in unreasoning terror as I recognised him. His hair was dark and his skin unlined but every bone of his face told me this was what the Ice-man must have looked like a generation ago.

He spat something at me in measured cadences but before he could get to the end of his spell, I was on him, daggers drawn and bowling him to the ground with the unthinking strength of panic. He cursed and managed to grab one of my wrists while my other dagger scraped uselessly at the mail on his back. With a thrust of his hips, he managed to roll us over but I've done more dirty fighting than I usually care to admit and I was out from under him, doing my best to kick into the side of his knee joints as I carried on over and back to the top. I ducked down and butted him in the nose, and felt a warm gush of blood in my hair as his attempts to speak choked on it. A searing pain in my scalp meant he was biting back but I managed to get my free hand round and raked up toward his eyes with my nails. In a convulsive movement, he nearly threw me off; I managed to hook a leg round him but lost my free hand to his vice-like grip. We rolled over and over, sand in my eyes, my nose, my mouth as we each struggled to find an advantage over the other.

His greater weight was beginning to tell and I was starting to think I had caught a wolf in a rat-trap when he suddenly choked and released his grip on me to claw at his throat. He turned a peculiar shade of blue and slumped across me, completely unconscious. I heaved his body off and scrubbed my face vaguely clean. Shiv was standing a little way off looking at the collapsed officer with a remarkably smug expression.

'What happened?'

'I took the air out of his lungs,' Shiv said with vicious satisfaction.

I stared down. 'Is he dead?'

'Not yet, not if I don't want him to be.'

I looked over to Aiten and Ryshad, who were standing over Fatty. He had evidently thrown away his sword and was down on his knees, belly wobbling like a skin of ale as he spread his hands in supplication.

'He'll tell them where we went!' Aiten was clearly all for killing him.

'He can tell them we've got your pal with the gold necklace,' Ryshad countered. 'I told you a good hostage would be worth having.'

Aiten spat something at Fatty and they left him cowering in the sand as I helped Shiv drag Gold-gorget into the boat.

'So you've got your hostage, Rysh, and Ait got to kill people. If everyone's happy, can we please leave this pissing place?'

Ryshad and Aiten grinned at me as they got in and it was impossible to keep up my pretence of irritation.

'You get more luck than you deserve!' I shook my head at Ryshad.

'Dastennin favours me, what can I do?' he asked, wide-eyed.

'You can keep praying and keep on his good side.' Shiv ran his hands along the sides of the boat and it began to move rapidly through the water. 'We've got half a stuffing ocean to cross before we're anywhere near safety.'

Bremilayne Docks, 3rd of For-Winter

Casuel stamped across the quay, his face clouded with a sufficiently forbidding scowl so that even the idling dockers gave him room to pass. He clutched the wax-paper packets of herbs and dried fruit with impotent anger. He was a wizard, he fumed; he was due more respect than this. It was all very well for Esquire Camarl, he had grown up used to ordering menials around and doubtless he didn't mean anything by it, but Casuel was not a footman and Camarl really shouldn't be sending him out on errands like this. Why wasn't Darni running up and down the steep streets, collecting pointless packages like a maidservant? He looked across to the far side of the harbour and the distant ship riding gently at the quayside, a tall-masted, rangy vessel with steep sides and a questing prow, the tiny figures of Darni and Camarl busy with the crew as they prepared to sail.

A ragged skein of crab-trapper boats rounded the long arm of the sea-wall. They bobbed over the gleaming waters of the harbour and began to tie up. People with baskets on their arms started to gather on the dockside, eager for first pick of the catch. Casuel's mood lifted a little at the prospect of fresh lobster: they were so much better on the ocean coast. The food at the guest-house had been a pleasant surprise, if the accommodations were a little old-fashioned and sparse. He pushed his cloak back over one shoulder and tucked the parcels under his arm. At least it wasn't raining today; the sky was a freshly washed blue and a gentle breeze was bowling fluffy clouds overhead. He wasn't exactly looking forward to risking the open ocean but hopefully their voyage wouldn't be too rough, not with Otrick to control the winds.

'Casuel, we meet again!'

Casuel halted and turned, astonished to be greeted like this. A short, blond man stepped out from behind a rack of drying nets, all smiles.

'You have the advantage, sir.' Casuel tried to look uncon-rerned but his mind was racing. This was the enemy! How could he summon help? Darni? Camarl?

'We met in Hanchet, don't you recall?' The fair-haired man smiled cheerfully. 'You were most helpful; spite and envy make a mind so very easy to read.'

Casuel gaped and turned to run but the man gripped his arm with fingers of iron and steel flashed in his other hand. A shocking pain lit through Casuel's head and his eyes were held, frozen, helpless in that icy green gaze. A disdainful touch scoured the surface of his mind, rough and superficial.

'So that's the ship and those are your allies; thank you, that's all I wanted to know.' The enemy glanced at the purchases in the crook of Casuel's elbow with a brief, contemptuous smile and then stabbed him abruptly above the belt buckle. Casuel folded around the hammer blow of the knife stroke and was pushed with one swift movement into the tangle of nets. He clasped frantic hands around the hilt, whimpering as an ominous thread of blood welled from his guts, gasping for breath. The blond man looked down for a moment then vanished in the gathering throng.

'Help,' he croaked. 'Help me!'

Casuel managed to get himself to a sitting position, half hanging in the nets, muscles cramping brutally in a vain effort to do something about the red-hot agony spreading from his midriff. Warm blood on his fingers was sticky and slippery at the same time. Yelping like a kicked dog, Casuel managed to shuffle forward on his buttocks, biting clean through his lip as the pain seared him. He rested, panting, his boots clear of the nets, blood trickling through the cobbles to pool around the scuffed leather, glistening drops scarlet on the wrappings of his little parcels.

Steps rang on the stones and Casuel looked up with relief. 'Help me, I've been—'

He stared, uncomprehending, as the fisherman stepped over his feet and went on his way regardless. 'You bastard,' he croaked despairingly.

The knife was a white-hot rod running from his stomach to his spine, an iron bar of scorching agony, his torn body melting around it. The rest of him was growing colder by the breath, clammy sweat freezing on his brow.

Casuel screamed in fresh anguish as someone stepped on his ankle, wrenching his leg and sending new torment to his abdomen.