'You heard the captain's words. He said that we will founder if we pursue our present course.'

'He said that we might founder.'

'You also forget, Vermel,' said Suth, 'that it was not one of the Chosen who spoke those words. So, the creature fears. What of it? It is a condition of its state.'

'Valour will not make this vessel move against the wind,' said Vennel.

'But oars will, my Lord.'

'Even a full complement of oarsmen could not maintain such an effort. How much less can we depend on the animals we have below?'

That is true, and that is why we must needs bend our own servants to the task.'

'My votes and my slaves are yours, my Lord,' said Aurum.

'I too will throw my ring in with Lord Suth's,' said Jaspar.

'In that case it is decided,' said Aurum. 'We shall continue on to Thuyakalrul.'

The drum beat its dirge in the ship's rotting belly. In his cabin, Carnelian clapped his hands over his ears. It was a long time since it had started and its insistent pounding was driving him mad. He stroked the eye on the silver box. It was a door he was reluctant to pass through even though it promised escape. Twenty days. The captain had said that they had been at sea for twenty days. Truly it had seemed like an eternity. He could hardly remember when his life had not consisted of dreaming in this cabin. Tain was snoring. Crail seemed less alive than something carved into the bulkhead. Those twenty days were all lost time. A single unending night. The wooden bulkheads pressed in on him. Carnelian wanted to stretch, to stand tall. He rose and curved up against the ceiling. He shuffled on his cloak, put on his mask and left the cabin.

The drumbeat pulsed louder in the corridor. He climbed the stairway and passed through the door onto the deck. The sky was striped with cloud. The moon hid its silver eye behind some tatters. A voice cried from the deck. Others answered from above. He looked up the mast. Only a few sails were unfurled, great hands running their fingers through the sky. The ship's heart beat on and on. The deck leaned off to starboard. He walked down it to the rail, leant over and saw the oar heads fly out into the air like fish. The drum thumped and they plunged back in. His people were down there on the end of those oars, in the stinking dark, pickling in brine with the sartlar half-men. He slid his hand along the rail. Where the harpoon engine had been there was nothing, a gap and the torn deck where the bolts had pulled through. The moonlight suddenly brightened and sketched an eddying silver inlay over the sea.

The melodies of Master voices fluttered his heart. He turned and saw the two apparitions come up out of the ship and drift off towards the prow. Carnelian was sure that they would see him but they kept right on. They stood under the stem. He could hear the lilt of their Quya but could understand nothing of what they said. The moonlight dimmed. Carnelian looked up and saw that the moon now passed mysterious behind a veil of cloud. He looked to the prow and saw that one of the Masters was looking up at the moon. His mask caught a rill of its light. He stooped and ignited the Gods' fire on Their altar. Carnelian was uneasy under the Green Face's lurid stare. The Masters turned so that the firelight fell on their hands and then began to make signs.

Carnelian looked up again. He estimated the length of the cloud behind which the moon was sliding and decided to take the chance. He lifted his bright hands up into the sleeves of his cloak, then crept towards the prow trusting to the darkness. He came close enough to see the signing hands.

… her eyes are not only here. The signs were shot through with a jewel glimmer that spoke of Aurum's hands.

… even she would not dare. Those signs had his father's familiar framing.

Do you forget what she has already dared? made with strong, bold gesture. Aurum.

If she should even for a moment suspect. His father with a certain nervous slurring between the signs.

Aurum made a sign of reassurance.

His father's hands began signing again. Her arm has grown long indeed if she can stretch it even to the sea.

Her arm has grown long, the signs precise with emphasis.

Carnelian sensed more than saw the moon waxing. It was as if he felt its colour on his back. He turned, hoping that the Masters were focused on their conversation. When he reached the mast, he moved behind it and from there went down the steps two at a time.

When he had closed the door of his cabin Carnelian stood for some moments listening. Wind. Timbers creaking. He removed his mask, threw off his cloak, and shrugged off the various robes. He lay down and slowed his breathing to match Tain's. His heart quietened till it seemed to Carnelian that the ship's pulse was his own. His feet managed to find their way to Tain's warm back. Tain moaned a protest but did not move away.

It could only be the Empress Ykoriana that they spoke of with such dread.

TRAPPED IN AMBER

The Categories of Concealment are: first, the offspring and the consorts of the Cod Emperor; second, the Ruling Lords of the Great and the Grand Sapients of the Wise; third, other Lords of the Great and the Ruling Lords of the Lesser Chosen; fourth, the remainder of the Chosen and the Wise; fifth, the ammonites of the Wise. The Protocol of Concealment states that those in a lower category must unmask whenever those in a higher category do so unless this contravenes the second Law of Concealment. The Categories of Seeing are: first, Lords of the Great and Ruling Lords of the Lesser Chosen; second, the remainder of the Chosen; third, a Lord's own household or the ammonites of the Wise; fourth, the household of another Lord; fifth, marumaga; sixth, all other creatures.

The Categories of Punishment are: first, blinding; second, the addition of mutilation; third, the addition of flaying; fourth, the addition of capital crucifixion. At Chosen discretion, the third and fourth categories may be commuted to immediate destruction.

The Laws of Concealment are: first, that the God Emperor must always remain concealed; second, that the number of a Category of Seeing determines the Category of Concealment in which concealment may be waived; third, that, for the Unchosen, a Category of Punishment is referenced according to how much the Category of Concealment exceeds the Category of Seeing.

(extract from the Law-that-must-be-obeyed)

The word fell like a stone into the water and rippled its black mirror. The sky was up there, far, far away, its bright disc like the moon in the night. Another word dropped into the well, cleaving deep into the water, trailing a churn and froth.

'Land.' A muffled word. Carnelian came vaguely awake. 'Land.' He could hear the word clearly above the creaking of the ship, distinct from the dull thudding drum.

He sat up in the blackness. The land, the land.'

The words caused him to breathe again. Land. He fumbled blindly for clothes. He fought his way into something. His hands wandered till they touched feathers. He grabbed them, pulled them to his nose, smiling at the smell and feel of his feather cloak. It fell around him, comfortable, familiar. He opened the door. Land. They had reached land at last. He stumbled up the stairway, throwing his arm up to shade his eyes from the high sun. He reached the deck, saw faces, walked round the mast. There, beyond the prow, was a blue horizon. His heart pounded against his ribs.

His ears came alive as if he were coming up out of water. There were fearful cries and shouting. There was a man kneeling off to one side, staring at him, his mouth hanging open, his eyes unblinking. It was the captain. Carnelian could not understand that horrified stare. He looked round and saw sailors flattening on the deck. Aurum was there like a pillar of tar smoke, his face impassive gold. Guardsmen stood around him holding forked spears, their eyes hidden in the crooks of their arms.