Ren'erei eased her away far enough to look into her eyes then leant forward and kissed her cheek.

'We'll be away from here on the morning tide and every pitch into a wave will bring you closer to Lyanna, and Denser will be at your side.'

The image filled Erienne with an elation that rushed through her body and sent those tears streaming down her cheeks even as a broad smile spread over her face. She kissed Ren'erei back and hurried below, hearing the tying-up orders sound across the deck. Just a day and they'd be resupplied and leaving for Herendeneth with The Raven on board, strong and invincible.

Erienne dropped her cloak over a chair and lay on her bunk, the first inklings of relaxation feeding across her mind.

Ren'erei walked quickly down the gangplank and on to the bustling dockside. It was just past midday and though the port was as busy as ever, the cranes creaking, the shouts of cratemen and netriders ringing out as they manoeuvred freight onto carts or into holds, there was an edge to the atmosphere.

Deciding to investigate, Ren'erei moved slowly along the water's edge, nodding at any she recognised but keeping her eyes and ears sharp, searching for the cause. With all four deepwater berths full, crates and boxes crowded the dock as she picked her way through workers hurrying to get goods to market or to onward transport into inland Balaia.

A netrider called out from above as he swung on a net filled with luggage trunks, looking for clear space before letting the tackleman lower it to the ground. Ren'erei waved acknowledgement and jogged on a few paces.

The elf moved effortlessly through the bustle, the wind blowing the nose-wrinkling smell offish from the market behind her. A little further on, the Lakehome Inn caught her eye. At first glance, it just looked unusually quiet and still but there was far more to it than

that. The doors were closed and windows shuttered and, outside, a ring of town guardsmen kept passers-by well away from the entrance.

Ren'erei moved closer, coming to the shoulder of a dock labourer who was standing with a knot of men and women looking at the blank face of the Inn.

'Trouble, was there?' she asked.

The labourer turned a salt-weathered red face to her. 'Just landed, is it?'

'That obvious?'

'Only explanation why you don't know, little elf. Town's been ablaze with it since sun-up. Earl's throwing the Black Wings out.'

Ren'erei must have blanched, or her face jumped a little, because next heartbeat, the man's face had hardened, his heavy brow creasing, his body tensed.

'Bothers you, does it?'

'That they're leaving, no. That's happy. That they're here at all, that bothers.'

'Scared, eh?' The hard face softened.

'Very. They don't like my kind.'

The man acknowledged the admission. 'Your business,' he said.

'Thank you.'

He nodded. 'I'll look for you.' He pointed to his eyes with splayed fingers. 'Go carefully.'

Ren'erei gave a small, respectful bow. 'Already in your debt. One thing. How many are there?'

'Black Wings?' The man shrugged. 'Thirty, forty. Long gone by sundown.'

T hope so.' She caught the man's eye. ' Ren'erei.'

'Donetsk,' responded the man. 'Always on the dock.'

The ghost of a smile. 'Always at sea. We'll know you. One last thing. See The Raven, come to the Ocean Elm.'' Ren'erei didn't wait for the response. She knew Donetsk would do exactly that should he see or hear of them. Dockers could be useful allies. There were always deals to be done and whispers to be heard but knowing the clipped patter made it possible. This time, though, Ren'erei wasn't worried about securing supplies at low cost. Security, muscle and discreet eyes were the goods of real value today.

The elf carried on along the dockside, assessing the readiness and flags of the other three ships at birth. All were ocean-going merchantmen as opposed to coastal vessels. None was less than one hundred feet long and while one was flying the flag of the much diminished Pontois barony, the other two were elven, hailing from Calaius.

All three were unloading or freighting normally and that was a relief to Ren'erei, who had considered the possibility that she might have been watching Black Wings preparing to board. She smiled. Not now. Arlen was a good man if sometimes a little overprotective towards his town. One thing was sure, the Black Wings wouldn't be granted re-entry.

With Donetsk able to put the word around the docks and Salt Quarter, where tenements and warehouses crowded, Ren'erei headed north to the Centenary Square market. The focal point of trade in all but the finest goods, the Centenary market was where she expected to hear if anyone as renowned as The Raven rode into town.

Ren'erei Could not keep the thrill from her heart as she scouted the thronging market, ducking into every inn and eating house, not even sure what she expected to find. In her mind's eye, she saw herself walking into an inn, maybe, and seeing The Raven seated quietly round a table.

She was sure she'd recognise them though she'd never actually set eyes on them. Because, even though she spent most of her time at sea or on Herendeneth, The Raven were a living legend. The massive, shaven-headed warrior they called 'The Unknown'; the dark-robed and bearded Xeteskian, Denser; the black-haired, quiet and assured elf, Ilkar, and the thickset, powerful barbarian warrior, Hirad Coldheart. Maybe even Thraun-the-wolf. They surely couldn't be hard to spot.

But she found no sign of them in the market or its surrounds. They weren't in the Park of the Martyrs' Souls or riding down Market Approach. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised but she couldn't shut out the disappointment. Erienne's first, and only as it turned out, contact with Denser suggested they wouldn't arrive until later that evening. She'd hoped anyway.

Ambling more slowly back through the market, she dropped

words into the ears of those she knew she could rely upon to be circumspect if they found information, and made her way back to the docks.

By the Fish Market, she was ordered aside by a mounted town guardsman riding ahead of a knot of Arlen's soldiers and a column of other riders. Melting quickly into the mildly irritated crowds packing to either side of the street, she watched the Black Wings escorted up the hill and, presumably, out to the borders of Arlen. Staring at as many faces as possible, searching for the men who had tortured Tryuun, she bit back a shouted curse, leaving the jeers to the crowd. She felt a welling of hatred for these men, and the black rose-and-wings tattoos on their necks; and an utter contempt for everything they stood for. Tryuun would forever be scarred by their action and, while any of them lived, mages across the world would be at risk from the violent punishment they willingly gave out for the 'crime' of having magical ability.

Wishing death on them all, she watched their backs for a while before turning and immediately noticing a pair of tall, slim men walking a good forty yards behind the riders as the street began to move with normal traffic once again. For all the world, they looked like merchants headed for the silk market; however they were anything but.

Arlen wasn't a stupid man and mage scouts were just one more level of certainty that the Black Wings would not be back. A smile tugging at the corners of her mouth again as she walked back to the Elm, Ren'erei just wished they had been assassins instead.

Another thunderstorm was prematurely darkening the sky as Dar-rick's cavalry and its three prisoners approached Arlen from the north east. Communion with the Dordovan camp to the south of the town had left Darrick and the reporting mage a little puzzled and, once his scouts had returned with messages of cautious welcome from Earl Arlen, he decided to camp away from his allies of necessity and take his prisoners into the town.