There had been three or four people aboard each boat. Fishermen, Blade suspected. Now it was impossible to tell what they had been and hard to tell how many they had been. The killers-the merpeople-had slashed and hacked at the bodies until they were a mangled mess-headless, disembowelled, limbs and genitals missing or mutilated. One body looked as if it had been bitten clean in two. Blade's eyes could also make out that entire sections of railing and deck looked as though they had been ripped or chewed away, by gigantic sharp-toothed jaws.

Blade wasn't the only one who saw those marks, who suspected what they might mean, and who didn't like it at all. He saw Captain Foyn's bearded jaw harden. He heard a babble of nervous voices rising from one end of Mistress to the other, as men pointed and stared.

«Fishmen work, all right. Raiders, though. No prisoners, so-«

«Hunh. Even if there were a thousand of them, they wouldn't be taking prisoners. They're so far west, they-«

«A thousand of them!» in a panicky squall. «Oh, Silver Goddess, have-«

A smack, of an open palm slapping flesh, and the panicky squalling broke off suddenly.

«Enough gabbling like seafowl!» roared Foyn, in a voice that spread a sudden silence from one end of the ship to the other. «The fishermen are beyond our help, may the Goddess have mercy on them. We will remember them in our Thank Prayers to her, when we reach the Cities. And they are not beyond our vengeance, if the Fishmen are still about. We will leave off battle call for now, but all men will continue to go armed until I order otherwise. I-«

«Sail ho!» came down from the crow's nest.

«Where away?» called Foyn.

«Dead ahead,» shouted the lookout. «Looks Eke Duln's Gainful.» Silence while everyone stared toward the masthead, as though they expected the other ship to materialize there. Only Blade and Captain Foyn kept their eyes ahead, trying to pierce through the haze and make out the Gainful. Yes, there was something out there in the grayness. A ship very much like Mistress, in fact. She didn't seem to be moving, though. She-

Blade and Foyn and the lookout saw it in the same moment. «Gainful's on fire!» came a half-hysterical scream from the masthead. Foyn started so violently that his rapier clattered to the deck, and he and Blade stared ahead. Yes, black smoke was suddenly curling up from between Gainful's masts.

«She's under attack,» said Foyn. «The Fishmen are still about.» He raised his voice again. «All hands-we're going to aid Duln and his crew. Topmen aloft to take out all reefs. Sweepmen, man all sweeps. Fore and aft guards, keep a sharp lookout there! Archers to the lookouts.» The scene of suspended animation on Mistress's deck dissolved in a flash, as forty-odd men ran to obey Foyn's orders. Discipline aboard the Sea Cities' merchant ships seemed almost military in its thoroughness.

Blade and Foyn ran forward, to join the men with tridents by the base of the bowsprit. Svera would have joined them, but Foyn clamped a hand on her shoulder and pointed aft. «You've refused the woman's training, so you've no place in this battle. Go below, so two good men won't have to waste their time trying to protect you.» Svera glared at her father but obeyed.

Foyn shook his head. «More of her fancies. We give the woman's training so our wives and daughters can help defend the ships and boats. But the women of Svera's mind won't take it. Think it means accepting the war against the Fishmen. As though the war were our fault! But then they won't stay safe at home, either, but will travel out to sea just like the trained women.» Foyn threw his hands wide in a gesture of despair and disgust, then looked ahead again. The black smoke was rising more thickly now. «She's heavily afire. If they can hold on until we can get there, maybe-«The rattle and bang of the sweeps running out made him break off. He sprang down to the main deck again and ran aft toward the hatch to the hold, leaving Blade and the fore guard to stare at the coiling smoke.

There wasn't enough wind for the extra sail area to make much difference to Mistress. But as the six long sweeps on either side settled down to a steady rhythm, the heavily loaded ship slowly began to pick up speed. The bang of the sweeps in their holes and the rattle of the chains that held them in place echoed all around the ship. So did the swelling gurgle of water at her bluff bow.

If Captain Foyn had wanted to drive the men at the sweeps to their full speed, he could have closed the gap to the stricken Gainful much faster. But he would have risked reaching the other ship and perhaps the merpeople with his own men too exhausted to fight even in defense of their own ship. He would do much to save a Brother, but not risk throwing away his own ship.

However, slowly the gap was closing. By now Blade could faintly smell the smoke curling up from Gainful. By straining his eyes, he could even make out fast-moving figures on her smoke-shrouded decks. And he could make out others, paler than normal, scrambling up her sides. The merpeople were boarding her already. Blade began to wonder if Mistress would come up with the other ship before the merpeople not only did their worst on her but fled away unscathed into the depths of the sea.

The only warning Blade had was a sudden splashing under Mistress's bow, louder than any bow wave. He stiffened and drew his sword. One of the fore guard stepped to the railing and looked over the side, his trident held ready to strike. Then he sprang back from the railing and spun around, his mouth open and his face working in horror.

Before the scream could come out, one of the yulons rose monstrous and dripping alongside, right among the portside sweeps. The heavy wood cracked and splintered. Screams sounded from below decks as the weighted inboard ends of the sweeps lashed about like great clubs. Men began pouring up from below, with shouts and a clatter of footsteps. Some of them were limping or bloody. Mistress began to lose way and come around in a circle as the starboard sweeps dragged her along.

Then a second yulon rose to starboard, even closer to the ship's side. More sweeps heaved upward; more screams came up from below. This time Blade could clearly see the heavy woven reins leading to a heavy harness around the creature's neck and head.

Blade found that he suddenly had no more qualms about fighting the merpeople-the Fishmen. At least not here and now. Here and now they were doing their best to kill him. He would do his best to stay alive.

He strode over to the starboard railing of the forecastle, shoving his way between two half-paralyzed trident men. His hand closed on a spear lying on the deck, lifted it, tested its balance. Then the spear was hurtling through the air, down into the sea. He aimed it where he could now clearly see the two Fishmen on the back of the great reptile, and aimed it true. The spear vanished into the water with a hiss and a flicker of silver bubbles. A moment later there was a frantically thrashing body drifting away from the reptile, and the crystal seas were stained dark with gushing blood. The yulon reared back, then sank out of sight.

But the other one still had its riders in control. It heaved itself up with a mighty hissing and grunting, until the fanged head on its long neck came swooping down over the railing. It caught one of the men emerging from below before he could lift a weapon, hoisted him into the air, and dropped him over the side with a splash and a scream. Captain Foyn ran out of the sterncastle, sword waving, hurling curses at the thing that had taken one of his men. He stood his ground, legs wide apart, as the yulon swung its head toward him. He did not waste his rapier's point on the armorthick scales, but thrust for the eyes. The creature twisted its head to one side, knocking down two sailors. But the bosun remained on his feet, to thrust a trident into the creature's exposed throat. Driven in with all the bosun's enormous strength, the trident smashed through the scales into the flesh.