'How're we doing?' he asked, his voice raised above the roaring of the wind. Rain started to fall again, heavy and punishing. He drew his furs closer.

'Well, we'll be faster than the Elm,'' said Jevin.

'How come?'

'Because they are a smaller vessel, less broad and long. Their skipper'll be running minimal sail in these conditions. She wasn't built for this.' He turned to look at Hirad. 'Mind you, neither were we.'

'Will we catch her?' asked Hirad.

Jevin licked a finger and held it up as if testing the wind. He scowled. 'Gods, man, how the hell should I know? I don't know how far they are ahead, in which direction they are going and how fast they are travelling. It's all guesswork. This weather should not be possible. The wind comes from three directions, the swell ignores them all and I'm trusting my compass but don't know whether I should. I know we're heading south but that's about it.'

Hirad nodded. It had been a daft question.

'Sorry,' he said. 'Please do everything you can. So many lives depend on you.'

Ren looked at him in some surprise but there was a smile on her lips. She touched his arm and mouthed her thanks.

'My crew are brave and I am too young to die this voyage,' said Jevin, his voice a little softer. 'Best you tend to your sick and leave the wheel deck for sailors.'

Hirad turned to go but the Captain hadn't finished.

'Go to the galley. Ask the duty cook for some Lemiir powder. Tell him I sent you or he won't give it you. Dissolve it in water. That should soothe Ilkar's head and stomach. Help him sleep.'

'Thank you.'

Jevin nodded curtly and turned back to the sails.

Night was coming again, though the day of lowering cloud, buffeting wind and sometimes torrential rain had been so dark it would hardly seem to make a great difference.

On the Ocean Elm, the skipper patted his helmsman on the shoulder. It was a small gesture but the elf knew what it meant. He nudged the wheel very slightly, bringing the ship four degrees into the wind. With the pitching and yawing of the vessel in the storm, there was no way Selik would discern the change in direction nor the reduction in speed. He was no sailor.

Indeed, the skipper could see him now, clutching at the starboard

rail, his face feeding on the wind, his stomach hopefully churning. He had already seen the man vomit half a dozen times as the storm worsened. He would be weakened and inattentive. It was a pity that some of the mages with him were not. Particularly the old one.

Berian, his name was, and he spent altogether too much time peering over the skipper's shoulder. It was he who had determined the course and he whom the skipper watched for before indicating that course could change. There was something dangerous about this Dordovan. He knew a good deal about the sea and watched the compass closely when on the wheel deck, waiting for it to settle between pitches before nodding acknowledgement that all was well.

But he had not been there through the early hours of the morning and his deputy had no idea what he was looking at. They had strayed far off course in that time and bought any pursuit precious hours. The skipper had not started looking back yet. Perhaps on the third day he would but even that might arouse suspicion.

He knew there would be pursuit. He had great faith in Ren'erei and her capacity to get aboard another elven ship. He prayed The Pvaven would be with her but the battle he had left behind on the docks of Arlen left those hopes severely dented. He needed to know that, as he approached Herendeneth, he wouldn't be leaving the Al-Drechar helpless. If another ship followed, and could match them through the tortuous waters of Ornouth, they still had a chance.

Below him, on the main deck, Erienne had been allowed a brief walk in the fresh air. He had managed to catch her eye as she was ushered back below by a mage guard and had smiled in what he hoped was encouragement. But she had the air of the condemned and he found it hard to disagree with her mood.

'Captain?' His helmsman indicated the starboard rail. Three mages were talking with Selik and, among them, Berian gestured behind him more than once at the wheel deck. It was an angry conversation and the skipper bit his lip.

'Come back to heading, lad,' he said, his lips barely moving. 'And keep yourself calm.'

The helmsman nodded, waited for the next pitch and edged the wheel away from the wind. The skipper felt the take on the sails, which were as light as he could argue, drive through the timbers at his feet. The four men left the rail and headed for the helm.

'Keep looking forward,' whispered the skipper, his face down looking at the compass.

'Aye, skipper.'

Footsteps rattled on the ladder and thumped across the wheel deck. The Captain was shoved aside and managed to assume an air of indignant surprise as he found Selik's sword resting on his chest.

'What have we done now, oversweetened your tea?' he asked, looking past the Black Wing at the mages who gathered around the compass.

Selik backhanded him across the cheek and he stepped back, rolling with the blow.

'You are testing my patience, elf,' drawled Selik. 'Berian?'

'Our direction is correct,' replied the old mage.

'But it wasn't always the way, was it Captain?' Selik pushed the point of his blade a little closer, the skipper aware that a sudden roll could end his life.

'Maintaining exact direction is impossible in these conditions,' he said. 'We are doing the best we can.'

Another slap. 'Liar.' Selik's good eye burned into the skipper's face. 'You think you're being clever, elf, but I have better men with me. They can see our destination through the mana trails, they can divine our position by light, wind and magic and they can sense an elf toying with the lives of his crew while he delays our purpose.'

The Captain said nothing. Selik drew back.

'Now we don't know exactly what you have cost us. We suspect it to be a good deal of time. And for every cost, there must be payment.' Selik moved his sword point higher where it wavered in front of the skipper's neck.

T could take the payment from you but I fear your crew might not accept your death. Fortunately, there are ample substitutes.'

He spun and drove his blade through the helmsman's neck; the young elf stiffened, gurgled and collapsed as Selik dragged the sword clear. The elf twitched as he lay dying on the deck, his blood flooding from the awful wound.

The Captain felt a surge of sickness and a greater one of fury. He made to spring forwards but found Selik's sword-point at his stomach once again.

'That's one step closer to your own death,' he said.

Selik didn't smile. 'You know, somehow I doubt it. The righteous are rewarded, the evil are cast down. It has always been the way. Now I suggest you take care of the wheel before we lose our course again. I'll have my men dispose of this body. After all, we can't afford the time for your ridiculous rituals, now can we?'

Selik strode to the ladder, the Captain's eyes following his every step. He wished for a wave to take him, for a slip to send him tumbling to the deck. Looking down now on the body of his fresh-faced young helmsman and seeing the renewed rain washing the blood from around his feet, the skipper mouthed a prayer to commend the elf s soul to the gods of the sea and gripped the bloodied wheel, his body on fire with hate.

Hirad was on deck early on the third day, scouring the way ahead for any sign of the Ocean Elm. He knew he wouldn't see anything before the elven lookouts but he had to do something. Denser and a marginally recovered Ilkar were tending The Unknown and Thraun, Ren was with Jevin as always and Darrick, well, Darrick was in a place of misery of his own invention. It was unlike the General but Hirad let him wallow. The time for bringing them together was not yet, and maybe not ever. Only when Erienne was on board would Hirad feel that there was a Raven to lead.