“Thank you.” Guinalle wondered when she’d stop missing the fine white loaves she’d been used to. Now that really was a pointless regret, she thought with asperity, worthy of those undisciplined Elietimm women.

“You’re entirely welcome.” Usara smiled at her, eyes warm with affection.

Guinalle dropped her gaze and tore a piece off the coarse bread. No matter how fond Usara seemed at present, the mage would return to Hadrumal when this strife was ended, she reminded herself. She would return to her life in Kellarin, meagre as it was. Letting go of lamentations over bread was one thing; risking heartbreak for the chance that Usara might help ease her sorrows was entirely too much to hazard. She’d sought paltry solace in Temar’s arms, with all his familiar deficiencies as a suitor and against her better judgement, only to have him make his disdain plain. She wasn’t going to lay herself open to such weakness again. But how it would ease all her sorrows to have the support of a love such as Shiv and Pered shared. Oh, this is ridiculous, she scolded herself silently. Get yourself in hand!

“Larissa sent word that Ilkehan is dead,” Temar began as they walked towards the cook fire.

“So Pered said, ”Guinalle interrupted. “From what I can read of the Elietimm, it seems to be so.”

“Seems?” said Halice sharply. “It could be a lie to deceive us?”

“No.” Guinalle chose her words carefully. “Ilkehan is truly dead. What I cannot divine is precisely by whose hand or when.”

“Where are Livak and the others?” Halice demanded.

“Safe, for the moment.” Guinalle shrugged. “Beyond that, those holding power in the islands and who know of Ilkehan’s fate are in disarray.”

“We need to know how Muredarch’s Elietimm are reacting.” Usara’s face was intent on this new question, tenderness for her vanished. Treacherous disappointment piqued Guinalle, but she rebuked herself. This turmoil was folly.

“Guinalle?” Halice was looking curiously at her. “Are you all right? You seem distracted.”

“I’m tired.” She managed a thin smile. That must be why these idle fancies were distracting her.

“Not too tired?” Usara was concerned.

“Don’t worry.” Guinalle waved away Temar’s hand as she brushed aside the perplexities that had inexplicably come to plague her. Familiar incantations warded her with the uncomplicated purity of Artifice. Armoured with aetheric magic, she reached out to the pirates’ lair and searched for the enchanters.

“They know he’s dead.” Guinalle couldn’t hide her own elation. “More, they have lost their grasp on the aether. All their training was focused on Ilkehan, not any understanding of independent enchantment. They’re completely at a loss.”

She opened her eyes to see Temar and Usara gazing at her. Halice’s face was unreadable as she chewed on a twist of bread. Allin stood beside her, a slowly dripping spoon held above a cauldron over the fire, her round face anxious.

“Can they recover their Artifice?” asked Temar urgently.

“Once they’re over the immediate shock, perhaps,” Guin-alle allowed. “But with nothing like the same potential.”

“We need to attack while they’re still off balance.” Halice took a pace in the direction of the open beach.

“There’s more,” said Guinalle hastily. “They haven’t told Muredarch. If they’re of no use to him, they fear he might try to trade their lives for his own and his closest confederates.”

“No danger of that,” spat Temar.

“We definitely have to attack while he doesn’t know they’re crippled.” Halice accepted a steaming bowl from Allin.

“We set sail as soon as we’ve filled our bellies.” Temar found a horn spoon in his pocket and took a bowl of the meaty frumenty. “Thank you, my lady mage.” He ate hungrily, smiling all the while at Allin.

Guinalle accepted a bowl herself, savouring the swollen grain thickening the broth. Allin had even found a little dried apple to add, doubtless for Temar’s sake.

Halice jabbed her spoon at him, words muffled by her mouthful of food. “You need to decide what we’re doing about prisoners. If I don’t tell my lads while they’re still calm enough to heed me, they’ll just kill them all as usual and trust Saedrin to sort them out.”

Temar swallowed slowly. “The pirates’ lives are plainly forfeit but we should give those who were captured the chance to surrender. We can mete out justice in due course, can’t we?”

Halice shovelled down her food. “That oath of Muredarch’s seemed to bind those who swore it pretty tight.” She looked at Guinalle. “How will that affect them if they want to turn their coats in a fight?”

Guinalle’s spoon hesitated in mid-air. “I’ve no idea.” What a perversion of aetheric power that was. If nothing else, her presence in this age should help put a stop to such foulness. That unbidden thought came as unexpected comfort.

“Your guess?” Temar persisted.

“Guesses are no good and no gold. We could talk till sunset and be no further on than a louse’s skip.” Halice dropped her wooden bowl into the emptied cauldron. “We’ll take prisoners but no one’s parole, man or woman. Let’s be on our way.” Her long stride took her rapidly down the beach where everyone bar the recently freed captives was preparing for battle.

“It’s hard to tell the mercenaries and the men of Vithrancel and Edisgesset apart,” mused Guinalle. Men and women checked blades and baldrics, adjusted straps and jerkins, boots and belts, faces set with determination. Some of the sailors were already rowing longboats out to the anchored Dulse.

“It’s all the drilling.” Usara was at her side. Guinalle blushed with irritation. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud either.

“We’re all fighting for our future, be it in Kellarin or just on the road with a pocket full of gold.” Temar gave his bowl to Allin who was pouring hot water from the kettle into the cook pot. “Leave that for someone else. Let’s get aboard.”

Allin smiled nervously at him. “Let’s hope we can put an end to all this today.”

“I’ll be glad to get back to Kellarin and a proper bed.” Temar took Allin’s hand and tucked it through his arm, keeping her close.

“Shall we?” Usara offered Guinalle his arm. “We’re all to go, if this is the final assault.”

Guinalle took a deep breath. “Will this be an end to it all?”

“If we all give it our very best.” Usara gazed at her intently. “Then we can look to the future.”

Guinalle had no answer to that so settled for a noncommittal smile and resting her hand lightly on the wizard’s forearm.

They followed Temar and Allin whose conversation had turned intense.

“I want you safe on the Dulse, out of any danger,” he was insisting.

Allin pulled Temar to a halt. “I can’t work the magic Halice needs unless I’m close at hand.”

Temar seized her by the shoulders. “Then be careful, do be careful.”

She gazed up at him. “I will and so must you.”

Guinalle watched Temar kiss the mage-girl, her own thoughts in turmoil once more. Was this how he managed to rise above the torments of memory and regret?

“No time for that, Messire,” some anonymous sailor safely out of sight chuckled lewdly.

Allin was scarlet but her eyes were bright and she raised herself on tiptoe to kiss Temar back.

“Nice to see the Sieur doing his bit to boost morale.” Halice grinned as Temar, colour burning on his cheekbones, ran the gauntlet of approving ribaldry and whistles from mercenaries and colonists alike.

He laughed, unconcerned. “Cohort commanders always reminded us we were fighting for hearth and home, wives and daughters.” Allin giggled as he helped her into the longboat from the Dulse.

“Demoiselle.”

Guinalle followed with Usara, all the doubts and confusion she’d thought she had safely ignored whirling around her mind.

Halice helped her up over the rail with a grim light in her eye. “Let’s get this battle done.”