‘At last they came back in to tell the king that it was as he had wished. The seventy demons had been consigned back to Hell, and the southmen buried alive in ice. But there was no longer a kingdom to protect. The beautiful country where the summers were warm and the winters mild was no more. And the old king wept, for he knew that he should have fought the dragon himself.’

Va stopped, and so did Elenya. They waited.

‘I won’t let you go, Rory macShiel; not on the strength of a story.’

‘Let go, woman. The monk might be mad but he tells it truly. We have to fight our own dragons. Leave me be, Eithne.’

macShiel finally broke through, pulling his wife behind him. ‘I’ve no wish to see my land, or anyone’s, put to ruin. I’ll take you wherever you want to go,’ he said.

‘Not so fast, macShiel. My boat isn’t as fancy as yours, but it’ll do the job just the same.’ macFinn squared up to the other man, tucking his thumbs into the waistband of his breeches.

‘Who put you in charge, Mici Finn?’ shouted a voice. ‘I’ll take them, and I won’t get lost.’

‘Who said that? Was that you, macDooley?’

Seizing the opportunity, Va took macShiel’s arm and pulled him close. ‘Where’s the boat?’

‘Down in the harbour. We’ll leave these hot-heads arguing over their precious honour and get on with the job, yes?’

Va barely understood, but a glance at Elenya confirmed what he’d hoped.

‘We need to run,’ she said. ‘Look.’

On the crest of the hill, two silhouettes of horse and rider.

Akisi thought to delay them by breaking away, his mouth half formed into a shout. macShiel spun round and struck his jaw with one of his work-hardened fists. The Kenyan went down, and Va scooped him up.

‘Go.’ Elenya took the book from him, and Va threw the length of Akisi’s body around his shoulders.

The tide was out, and macShiel’s boat was beached with three others.

‘Get him in, then yourselves.’ macShiel shouldered the bow like a bull and heaved it into the water, his feet gouging holes in the shingle. He kept pushing until he was up to his waist.

Va waded in after him and tumbled the groaning Akisi into the bottom of the boat. He grabbed hold of the side and pulled himself in afterwards. He put his hand down. The book was jammed into it, then Elenya’s hand.

He stiffened, then shut his eyes and hauled her in.

macShiel turned the boat out to sea with a mighty heave and scrambled aboard.

‘Get the sail up,’ he ordered. ‘Pull that rope there.’

‘What?’

‘For God’s sake, man, this one.’ He waved it in Va’s face.

The horsemen were in the town and heading for the harbour. Va started to pull on the rope, hand over hand. Wet canvas crawled up the mast, fluttered in the wind, then snapped taut as macShiel loosened the jib line. Then he jammed a piece of wood shaped like a fish’s fin through the floor of the boat, and all the aimless rocking and splashing suddenly transformed into a surge of movement.

They were fast enough to leave a white wake behind them, which the greedy waves soon obscured.

CHAPTER 26

THE LITTLE BOAT made steady progress all through the day, heading westwards towards the rising sun. When that climbed higher in the northern sky, macShiel made certain that it was on his right shoulder. Crouched in the stern, tiller in one hand, jib line in the other, he eyed the thin line of dark land in front of them.

‘Aeire’s behind us. We have to go north around that, then follow the coast.’

‘Whose land is it?’ asked Elenya.

‘We call the land Sasana, and it’s a wild, lawless place. Best avoided.’

Akisi, jaw still aching where macShiel had hit him, said: ‘They are more barbarous than either of you. They spend their time in filth and fighting.’

Elenya stared him down. ‘No one asked you.’

He fell silent and looked away, rubbing his chin with a wet hand. Salt water was supposed to be good for bruises.

macShiel swung the tiller, and the boat turned to the north-west.

The hull bucked as the wind gusted round to a different quarter. The sail canvas wriggled like a worm, and macShiel slackened the jib rope. Elenya pulled hard on its opposite number and the jib came swinging around. The three of them in the stern ducked. The sail snapped taut again, and Elenya passed the end of the rope to macShiel, who tied off the one he was holding before accepting the new one.

Va sat in the bow with the book, straining his eyes through the bursts of spray from the prow at a smudge on the southern horizon.

‘What’s that?’ he said, pointing sternwards.

Everyone turned, and Elenya stood, one foot braced on the gunwale. She shielded her eyes from the glare and squinted.

‘Looks like another boat.’

‘It wasn’t there a little while ago.’

macShiel gave the tiller to Elenya and had a closer look himself. ‘Bigger boat than this.’

‘Did he say it was a bigger boat?’ asked Va, craning his neck. ‘How can he tell?’

‘Don’t be an idiot, Va.’ Elenya kept the boat steady with difficulty. ‘Sit down.’

But Va tucked the book in the angle of the bow, and in two short steps he was halfway up the mast with his legs wrapped around the wood.

macShiel balked. ‘Get down, man. You’ll have us over.’

‘I can see two masts,’ he reported.

‘Down!’ macShiel reached up to take hold of Va’s habit, and the boat started to lean. He threw himself across the boat to steady it. Akisi squeaked in fear.

Finally Va dropped down.

‘Never do that again,’ warned macShiel. ‘Brother or not, you won’t be welcome aboard my boat.’

Oblivious to the threat, Va said: ‘It’s not Ardhal. It’s not even an Aeireann ship.’

‘And you’re the expert, Va?’ Elenya kicked Akisi away from her.

‘I thought only macShiel had this three-sided sail. That one has too.’

Elenya told macShiel, and he chewed his lip. ‘Northerners. Could be slavers.’

Even Akisi roused himself from his petulance to see. ‘Is there a flag?’

‘Whatever flag it shows, it’s not going to be good news for us.’

Elenya put her hand on macShiel’s. ‘Rory, can we get away?’

‘I don’t know.’ He gave one last look around and took the tiller back. ‘Jib’s coming round.’ He turned the boat to the south-west, then pointed to the bailing bucket at Va’s feet. ‘Wet the sail. Catches the wind better.’

While Va scooped up sea-water from over the side, Elenya asked Akisi: ‘Worried it might be the emperor coming to get you?’

‘Yes.’

‘He’ll have you soon enough. I’d be more worried that it was a caliphate boat.’

At mention of the Caliphate, Va went cold inside. ‘They mustn’t catch us. I have to finish my mission.’

‘I don’t care about your mission,’ said Elenya, ‘and if the Caliphate capture you, well, the best you could hope for is a quick death. At worst – well, I’m told there are ways of keeping a man alive through even the worst torture imaginable.’

‘And we both know what would happen to you.’

They stared at each other long enough to make both macShiel and Akisi uncomfortable. Finally Elenya said: ‘Whoever it is, I don’t think we want to meet them.’

‘Why is the monk scared of the Caliphate?’ Akisi snorted with mock laughter. ‘It strikes me that something as mundane as an army should hold no fear for him.’

‘It didn’t when he broke the siege of Novy Rostov, destroyed the Caliphate’s dreams of a greater empire and slaughtered their soldiers to the last man. But he now believes he’s got more important things to do than be a plaything of the caliph.’

macShiel looked at Va with new eyes. ‘He did that? On his own?’

‘He started with nothing. He raised the peasant army. He trained them. He led them. He watched them kill and be killed. He won.’