He winced as he carefully removed the silver ring, a raw, blistered weal now circling his finger. Shaking, the Archmage studied his handiwork. The once dull and scuffed ring was bright and untarnished, unmarred by any scratch or blemish. It glowed with a rich silver sheen softened with just the faintest hint of gold. Planir left his bedchamber, waving a hand and locks on both doors out on to the corridor snicked softly secure.

Planir slipped the silver ring on his forefinger as he collected a candle from the mantel and took up the mirror and candlestick from the window seat. He winced as snapping his fingertips for a flame pulled painfully at his blisters but the candle burned fiercely all the same. The spreading light shone brilliant in the steel and Planir laid his hands either side of the dark wood frame, concentrating until the spell shrank to little more than a thumbnail disc of vivid brightness.

“Larissa?” whispered Planir. “Dear heart?”

“Archmage?” Her startled voice rang through the spell.

“Just listen.” He bent close to the mirror. “Ilkehan is dead. They killed him and cut up his body so D’Alsennin should be able to attack the pirates without fear of Artifice inside a day.”

“I’ll bespeak ’Sar,” Larissa began.

“No,” Planir interrupted. “Not until I know it’s safe. Some enchanter may still find a scrap of power somewhere and try to make trouble. Just wait—and I have something for you, to help you when it comes to the fight—”

Frowning, the wizard caught his breath. Then he gasped in sudden shock. He flung the mirror from him, knocking the candle aside, hot wax spattering his hand. The Archmage was oblivious to the searing pain, reeling back senseless in the window seat, a trickle of blood oozing from one nostril. But the silver ring was gone from his finger, leaving only the blistered scar of the burn.

Suthyfer, Sentry Island,

10th of For-Summer

Usara, wake up!”

The urgent voice roused the mage. “Guinalle?” He sat bolt upright, then cursed as he slid off the makeshift bed a sailor had lashed together. He hit the ground with a thump that jarred his spine.

“No, it’s me, Larissa.”

“ ’Sar?” Hearing voices, Halice came towards the frond-covered canopies she’d ordered built to shade each bed from rain in the night and the earliest light of morning. “I thought I told you to get some rest.”

“What in the name of all that’s holy are you playing at?” Usara stared at the brilliant swirl of blue-white light.

“Ilkehan’s dead,” declared the unseen mage-girl, voice high with exultation.

“How do you know?” demanded Halice. The mercenary didn’t bother looking towards the magical link, catching up a leather map case from her blankets instead.

“Planir told me.”

Before Usara could wonder at the self-conscious note in Larissa’s voice, Temar came running up from the beach, the young Sieur’s questions stumbling over Halice’s.

“What is it?”

“When did he die?”

“Planir just bespoke me.” Usara thought he heard that bashfulness again.

“What about Livak?” Halice scowled at the blinding radiance, a parchment in her hand. “Where is she?”

“And Ryshad?” Temar took his sword belt from the stripped sapling that propped up his shelter, and buckled it on. “Have they returned to Hadrumal or are they coming here?”

“All Planir told me is Ilkehan’s dead,” Larissa said, defensive.

“But Muredarch’s enchanters aren’t,” Usara remembered hastily. “We must keep this short.”

“So Planir says we’re ready to go? Did he say anything else?” Halice walked to the cook fire by the original pirates’ hut.

“Not of significance.” That hint of coyness in Larissa’s denial teased Usara again but such curiosity fled at the racket Halice was making with a long metal spoon against the iron cook pot. She bellowed an amicable warning. “Stir yourselves or I’ll stir you with this! I want every man ready to go.”

“We’ll bespeak you when we’ve decided our next move.” Usara addressed the shimmering coil of magic and Larissa’s spell spiralled in on itself, vanishing into nothingness.

Allin had come out of the cabin and stared at the empty air. “When did she learn to do that?” The mage-girl spoke to herself as much as to anyone else.

Usara was sitting on his blankets pulling on his boots but paused to consider this question. “That was one of Otrick’s favourite workings. Was she ever his apprentice?”

“If Ilkehan’s dead, why didn’t we hear about it from Livak?” Halice picked up a kettle and stuck fingers in her mouth to summon a nearby sailor with an ear-splitting whistle.

“Perhaps Shiv’s incapacitated somehow,” said Usara thoughtfully.

“Can’t Sorgrad bespeak you?” queried Halice as she handed over the kettle. “Get that filled.”

Usara shook his head. “He’s not got that skill perfected as yet.”

“If Shiv’s hurt, I want to know what’s been going on,” said Halice grimly.

“You and me both,” muttered Pered. The artist stood behind Allin, matching the edges of a sheaf of drawings with concentrated precision.

“That’s not important—I’m sorry, of course it’s important but—” Temar tried to convey apology with a quick look at Pered before turning to Halice. “If Ilkehan’s dead, we must attack, while the pirates’ enchanters are still shocked by their master’s death.”

“I’m sure Shiv’s all right.” Allin gave Pered a reassuring smile and Temar wondered how he could ever have thought her plain.

“The news might have Muredarch off balance as well,” Usara remarked thoughtfully.

Halice nodded slowly. “As long as we’re certain those enchanters are clear off the board and back in the box.”

Allin moved to stir the slumbering cook fire to a cheerful blaze. “Planir wouldn’t have told Larissa to tell us if there was any danger.”

“Larissa’s the last person in Hadrumal he’d risk,” agreed Usara with a pang at the truth of his own words.

“Guinalle can tell us how Muredarch’s Elietimm stand.” Temar waved a hand at the shuttered wooden hut.

“She got less sleep last night than I did.” Usara realised he had spoken more sharply than he’d intended when he saw Temar’s indignation. He managed a milder tone. “Nursing Naldeth has been tiring. How much are you asking of her?”

“It’s simple enough.” Temar’s open face betrayed his chagrin. “If I were but a little more adept, I could do it myself

“I’ll make her a nice tisane.” Allin rose, brushing sand and ashes from her skirts, and rummaged in a small coffer holding Pered’s treasured spice jars. “You can take it to her, ’Sar.”

“Of course.” Usara hoped he didn’t look as self-conscious as he felt when Allin gave him an encouraging smile.

“Let’s assume Ilkehan’s death has drawn Muredarch’s enchanters’ teeth.” Temar squared up to Halice. “We have to decide exactly how to attack. We’ve spent long enough discussing the options.”

Halice spared a glance for Pered. “If Livak and Shiv are in trouble, our attack should distract whoever’s chasing them, Saedrin willing,”

“As soon as we’ve seen these pirates to Poldrion’s ferry, we can rescue them.” Allin looked hopefully from Halice to Temar.

Halice was frowning, one foot tapping in thought. “The question we must decide is how best to use Darni and Larissa. He’s got the better part of a troop with him and we could certainly use a second attack.”

Temar braced himself. “I still don’t think we can rely on Darni. We’ve no notion of how many wounded he suffered or how far afield he’s fled to evade pursuit.”

“Let me help you, Allin.” Usara went to find the horn cups. He didn’t want to get involved in that argument again.

Halice’s expression deepened to a scowl. “It’ll take too cursed long to send a boatful of men all the way round to come up the strait from the south.”

“Those two pirate ships we burned all but block the channel anyway,” Usara pointed out. “A two-handed attack is all very well but we’d gain nothing by splitting our forces and letting Muredarch take on each half as he pleases.