Carnelian chewed his lip. 'He is terrified of us.'

'With good reason,' his father said grimly. 'But come, let us resume our places at the prow. I would share this homecoming with you, my son.'

Keal and the others remade the wall of screens, allowing Carnelian and his father once more to unmask. Carnelian rubbed at the side of his face where his mask had pressed into his skin. 'I will never get used to this thing.'

His father took the mask from Carnelian's hand and looked at its edge. This is poorly made. In Osrakum we shall have our craftsmen fashion you better ones.' He handed back the mask. 'A well-crafted mask should fit its wearer as comfortably as an eyelid does its eye.'

The drum beat faster and with it Carnelian's heart. The banks of oars hissed the sea. The cliff loomed up. From far away, it had seemed mottled white. Closer, Carnelian could see that its corrugated face was peppered with birds. They wove the air with their flight and pierced it with cries. High above, sky-saurians described wide arcs in the sky. Carnelian took a step back as one fell towards them like a dart. Its dive veered and it seemed that it would crumple into the sea. At the last moment it pulled up and its huge grey-feathered anvil-headed shape flashed past as it skimmed the surface on its fingered wings.

Behind Carnelian there was a consternation of mechanical sounds and voices. He turned reluctantly from the dance of birds and looked over the screen. He let out a cry, The mast falls.'

'Calm yourself, my Lord,' snapped his father. 'One should observe before giving voice. Look how slowly it comes down. We simply strike the masts for which we no longer have any use.'

Putting his mask before his face, Carnelian parted the screens to look through. The forward mast swung upon a cradle of ropes that hung between the brass posts that had ringed its base when it was upright. The nearest rigging sagged. The rigging on the other side was straining and a gang of sailors was squealing it out through pulleys. Slowly, the mast settled to the deck. Other sailors began swarming the central mast. They wove a cradle of rope between its brass posts. They fitted new ropes that came over the pulleys on the posts. They pulled on these and the mast began to rise. Up it went while others kept its rigging in tension so that it would not topple. Once its base had cleared the deck they let it fall to one side and the rope cradle caught its weight and lowered it towards the deck.

Carnelian pulled the screens closed. 'I cannot see, my Lord, why it should be necessary.'

'Where we are going there will not be the height clearance for masts.'

Carnelian turned his gaze back to the cliff. At its foot, rocks ripped white tears in the green hem of the sea. The rock piled crag upon crag up into the sky, the whole mass veiled behind a mist of birds. They wheeled and dived and circled round and it seemed a miracle to Carnelian that they did not collide.

For a while there was a view down the lagoon to a bluish valley cutting up into the cliff. Then the harbour swept its basalt wall across the scene.

'In all the lands this wall is surpassed in towering majesty only by the cliff of the Guarded Land and by the Sacred Wall of Osrakum itself,' his father said.

The ship moved near enough to allow Carnelian to see the cracked, jointed surface. Craning he could just see the sky. The rock mass slid past the ship's port rail. As it came closer it washed its cold shadow over the ship, spilling ink into the water round about. Carnelian shivered. In the shadow the waves frothed their lips up the rock but could find no grip.

Further along, the wall ended in a headland. Beyond that the sea was apple-green and gleaming as though some vast door had been left open in the cliff. They came round the headland. Light swelled and burned on every side. Carnelian could hear the captain shouting. The ship was swinging round on the coruscating mirror of the sea. He had to screw his eyes shut.

'Behold, Thuyakalrul, the Blue Ring of Stone,' his father intoned, 'greatest of the Cities of the Sea, gateway to the Three Lands.'

The colours in Carnelian's vision oozed slowly back from whiteness. He gasped. The sea was so green it might have been liquid jade. Two long arms of cliffs embraced the bay, the eastern a curving sweep of stone made turquoise by the sun, the western dark in its own shadow.

Sunk between them he saw a many-towered citadel. Above that, a misty blue valley faded up into the sky.

The deck rolled up and down as the ship passed through the doorway in the cliff. Its starboard jamb, a stone column, rose shadowy-vast from a collar of rafts floating chained around its foot. Ropes dangled down from above and ladders formed a dizzying scarring up its flank. Shadowing his eyes, Carnelian looked up and narrowed his gaze in disbelief. Cranes and other machines formed a crown of spikes around the column's head, which was plumed with a billowing of smoke that made Carnelian sway with vertigo.

The beacon seemed so slight from out at sea, did it not?' his father said.

Carnelian gripped the rail, closed his eyes and nodded. He felt the ship's bucking calm. He opened his eyes and saw that they were through into the bay. The cliffs on either side were banded with grey houses. A filigree of walkways traced across the stone. Here and there a palace formed a silver crust mossed with the heads of tiny trees. His eyes darted everywhere.

'Here people nest like gulls,' he cried in delight.

They flee the stench of the town,' his father said.

There it lay, crowding the depression in the cliff and tumbling down to fill the further side of the bay with brown confusion.

'It is warmer here,' sighed Carnelian in a trance. The drumbeats shook up from the deck and pulsed the air. From across the bay there came a distant murmur like summer bees. Everything appeared to stand still, trapped motionless in the sun's amber.

The ring traps the-sun's rays,' his father said remotely, making a circular motion with his hand to take in the cliffs. His fingers fell to stroking his mask as if he were thinking of hiding his face from the sun. He turned to check that all of his son's skin was painted. Carnelian was smiling closed-eyed, basking in the sun's warmth.

'You should take care, my Lord,' Suth said. The sun can taint even painted skin.'

Carnelian opened his eyes. His father was like an ivory carving of a god seeing the future. The more Carnelian looked the more he could see the man. With a pang he saw that the face had lost some of its beauty. The paint could not hide the faded youth. It made him melancholy.

His father came back to life with a sigh. 'See the ships.'

With each thump of the baran's heart her oars sliced into the syrup of green water. She was making for the wharves of the town. Carnelian could just make out the moorings, the masts like a stand of reeds, the clusters of white tenements that rose up behind. 'So many ships,' he said.

They sleep now, but soon they will slip out from this harbour and sail up the coasts, navigate rivers, cross to islands and fetch back for us all that is curious and wonderful.'

And our people, Carnelian thought. He said nothing. He did not want to take the brightness from his father's eyes. He watched his white hand point here and there among the nesting ships. Some were large, some small, some as brightly painted as kites.

'In less than a month this whole bay will be filled with a waft of sails.' His father's hands made airy gestures that were almost words. 'As a boy I came here and passed disguised through the markets. The smells… aaah, the smells and the shimmer and the play of colour. So many people.' He looked down with his cloud-grey eyes. 'Sometimes, however mean and squalid, however poor, sometimes I have almost envied our subjects their earthy lives.'