'I need two, maybe three men for a half-day's work,' he called loudly. 'A copper now and a silver when it's over. No swords or bowmen -just axes or pole-arms. I'll be outside.'

'Why are we going to talk to them outside?' Hort asked as he followed his father into the street.

'I want to know what I'm getting,' the Old Man explained. 'Couldn't see a thing in that place.'

It took most of the afternoon but they finally sorted out three stalwarts from the small pack that had followed them. The sun was dipping towards the horizon as Panit gave his last man the advance coin and turned to his son.

'That's about all we can do today,' he said. 'You run along and

see your friends. I'll take care of the trap.'

'Aren't you going to tell me your plan?' Hort pleaded. 'Haven't got it all worked out yet,' the Old Man admitted, 'but if you want to see what happens, be on the dock at first light tomorrow. We'll see how smart this monster is.'

Unlike the day before, Hort was at the dock well before the dawn. As the first tendrils of pre-dawn light began to dispel the night, he was pacing impatiently, hugging himself against the damp chill of the morning.

Mist hung deep over the water, giving it an eerie, supernatural appearance which did nothing to ease Hort's fears as he alternately cursed and worried about his absent father. Crazy old man! Why couldn't he be like the other fishermen? Why take it on himself to solve the mystery of the sea-monster? Knowing the best way to combat the chill was activity he decided to launch the family's boat. For once, he would be ready when the Old Man got here.

He marched down the dock, then slowed, and finally retraced his steps. The boat was gone. Had Sanctuary's thieves finally decided to ply their trade on the wharf? Unlikely. Who would they sell a stolen boat to? The fishermen knew each other's equipment as well as they knew their own.

Could the Old Man have gone out already? Impossible - to be out of the harbour before Hort got there, the Old Man would have had to take the boat out at night - and in these waters with the monster...

'You there!'

Hort turned to find the three hired mercenaries coming down the pier. They were a sullen crew by this light and the pole-arms two of them carried gave them the appearance of Death's own oarsmen.

'We're here,' the leader of the trio announced, shifting his battle-axe to his shoulder, 'though no civilized man fights at this hour. Where's the old man who hired us?'

'I don't know,' Hort admitted, backing down from this fierce assemblage. 'He told me to meet him here same as you.'

'Good,' the axe-man snarled. 'We've appeared, as promised. The coppers are ours - small price for a practical joke. Tell that old man when you see him that we've gone back to bed.'

'Not so fast.' Hort surprised himself with his sudden outspoken courage as the men turned away. 'I've known the Old Man all my life and he's no joker. If he paid you to be here, you'll be needed. Or don't you want the silver that goes with those coppers?'

The men hesitated, mumbling together darkly.

'Hort!' Terci was hurrying towards them. 'Whafs going on? Why are there cut throats on the dock?'

'The Old Man hired them,' Hort explained. 'Have you seen him?'

'Not since last night,' the lanky fisherman replied. 'He came by late and gave me this to pass to you.' He dropped three silver coins into the youth's palm. 'He said if he wasn't here by mid-day that you were to use this to pay the men.'

'You see!' Hort called to the mercenaries as he held up the coins. 'You'll be paid at mid-day and not before. You'll just have to wait with the rest of us.' Turning back to Terci he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. 'What else did the Old Man say - anything?'

'Only that I should load my heaviest net this morning,' Terd shrugged. 'What's going on?'

'He's going to try to fish for the monster,' Hort explained as the Old Man's plan came clear to him. 'When I got here his boat was gone.'

"The monster,' Terd blinked. The Old Man's gone out alone after the monster?'

'I don't think so. I've been here since before first light. No, even the Old Man wouldn't take a boat out in the dark - not after the monster. He must be...'

'Look there! There he is!'

The sun had finally appeared over the horizon and with its first rays the mist began to fade. A hundred yards offshore a small boat bobbed and dipped and in it they could see the Old Man pulling frantically at the oars.

As they watched he suddenly shipped the oars, waiting expectantly. Then the boat was jerked around, as if by an unseen hand, and the Old Man bent to the oars again.

'He's got it! He's got the monster!' Terci shrieked, dancing with delight or horror.

'No!' Hort disagreed firmly, staring at the distant boat. 'He doesn't have it. He's leading it, baiting it into shallow water.'

It was all clear to him now. The metal trap! The monster was used to raiding the Old Man's traps, so he fed it one that couldn't be crushed. Now he was teasing the unknown creature towards shore, dragging the trap like a child drags a string before a playful kitten. But this kitten was an unknown, deadly quantity that could easily attack the hand that held the string.

'Quick, Terci,' Hort ordered, 'get the net! It won't follow him on to the shore.'

The lanky fisherman was gaping at the scene, his mind lost in his own thoughts. 'Net the monster?' he mumbled. 'I'll need help, yes, help ... HELP!' He fled down the dock screaming.at the still-dark, quiet huts.

This was not the Maze where cries for help went unheeded. Doors opened and bleary-eyed fishermen stumbled out to the wharf.

'What is it?'

'What's the noise?'

'Man the boats! The Old Man's got the monster!'

'The monster?'

'Hurry, Ilak!'

'The Old Man's got the monster!' The cry was passed from hut to hut.

And they came, swarming over their boats like a nest of angry ants: Haron, her sagging breasts flopping beneath the nightdress she still wore; Omat, his deformed arm no hindrance as he wrestled his boat on to the water with one hand, and in the lead, Terci, first rowing, then standing, in the small boat to shout orders at the others.

Hort made no move to join them. They were fishermen and knew their trade far better than he. Instead he stood rooted on the dock, lost in awe of the Old Man's courage.

In his mind's eye Hort could see what his father saw: sitting in a small boat on an inky sea, waiting for the first tug on the rope - then the back-breaking haul on the oars to drag the metal trap landward. Always careful not to get too far ahead of the invisible creature below, yet keeping its interest. The dark was the Old Man's enemy as much as the monster was; it threatened him with disorientation - and the mist! A blinding cloud of white closing in from all sides. Yet the Old Man had done it and now the monster was within reach of its victims' net.

The heavy net was spread now, forming a wall between the mystery beast as it followed the Old Man and the open sea behind them. As the boats at either end of the net began to pull for shore, the Old Man evened his stroke and began to move steadily through the water ... but he was tired now; Hort could see that even if no one else could.

'There!' Hort called to the mercenaries, he pointed towards the shore-line. 'That's where they'll beach it! Come on!'

He led their rush down the dock. He heard rather than saw the net scoop up its prey; a cheer went up from the small boats. He was waiting waist-deep in the water when the Old Man's boat finally reached the shallows. Grabbing on to the cleats, Hort dragged the boat to the beach as if it were a toy while his father sagged wearily between the oars.