"I understand. How close do we have to be?"

Vallus appraised the distance, a frown creasing his brow. "Closer than this," he replied.

Aelfred chuckled mirthlessly. "Oh, we'll get closer," he told the elf mage. "You're on your own, Vallus. You know better than me how to handle the magic side of it. Do whatever you can to give them trouble. If you can take out their helmsman, do it."

The elf nodded. "I'll do what I can." The first mate turned away to study the approaching enemy.

The deathspider was nearer, and Teldin was able to make out more details. Multiple round ports were set into the vessel's head. They glowed a sullen red, like inhuman eyes filled with hatred and blood-lust. Rigging was strung between the upper two pairs of legs: diaphanous sails that could almost be made of cobwebs, linked by silvery ropes. The ship's bulging abdomen seemed to have taken on a dull red tinge. Perhaps it was just the flow-light reflecting off it, or maybe it was light from within transmitted through the deathspider's crystalline hull. The overall effect was horrific, threatening. Even if Teldin hadn't known what he did about the neogi, there was no way he could picture any race using such a ship as anything but rapacious and evil.

To Teldin, it seemed that the rate of approach had slowed somewhat. Perhaps Aelfred was right and the horrors aboard the spidership were hesitant about dealing with a vessel that turned to the attack rather than fled. Or, more likely, the creatures were just being cautious. Why rush into something when there was little or nothing to be gained through speed?

It was difficult to judge the range accurately, both because of the shifting background and because the head-on attitude of the deathspider gave precious little detail from which to judge distance. Nevertheless, Teldin guessed the enemy was now less than ten thousand paces distant.

Bubbo had borrowed Aelfred's spyglass and had it trained on the approaching vessel. Now he lowered it and roared,

"Catapults away!"

Teldin turned to watch the aft catapult. Shandess pulled the lever that fired the heavy weapon. The catapult's arm pivoted forward and up, slowly at first but picking up speed at a frightening rate. Then the arm reached the full extent of its travel and slammed into the forward stop with an echoing boom. The massive stone that had been loaded into the cup at the end of the arm shot clear. Teldin heard it whistle overhead, barely clearing the rigging, as it hurtled slightly to port, directly at the deathspider. Almost simultaneously, he heard the forward catapult fire. He tried to follow the flight of the two stones, but quickly lost them against the turbulence of the phlogiston.

Bubbo had the spyglass back to his eye. "Two clean hits," he announced after a few moments, satisfaction apparent in his voice. "One to the head." Teldin tried to imagine the impact of one of those massive catapult stones, the splintered timber and shattered crystal. How could anything weather such a blow? The deathspider seemed unaffected, though-at least, any damage was totally invisible from this distance-and continued on its course.

The aft catapult crew was at work reloading the massive weapon. Four burly crewmen were heaving on two mighty windlasses, winching the catapult arm back toward its cocked position, while Shandess stood ready to lock it into place. It was slow work, and Teldin could sense their intensity.

He turned forward. The ballista crew in the forecastle turret was tense, ready. The weapon was cocked, ready to fire, and the head gunner was squinting along the length of the huge bolt, checking the accuracy of his aim. There was something different about the ballista's appearance, Teldin noted for the first time. It seemed more complex, somehow. He couldn't immediately identify what the changes were, but they made the heavy weapon look even more dangerous than ever.

After a moment, he saw what he knew to be the source of those changes. Dana was crouched by the firing lanyard, apparently making some quick adjustments to the mechanism. As if sensing Teldin's gaze on her, the gnome turned, and their eyes met. If the eyes are truly windows to the soul, then it seemed as though imminent danger had opened the shutters.

Teldin felt Dana's emotions hit him like a physical shock. Fear and determination were there, of course, but these were in the background. At the forefront were feelings directed at Teldin: respect and affection… and something more than affection. Shaken, Teldin gave the small woman a reassuring smile, then turned away. Now wasn't the time to deal with this new complexity, later, maybe. If there was a later.

"Range?" Aelfred snapped.

"A thousand paces," Bubbo rumbled. "Closing."

The first mate nodded. "Now it gets interesting."

There was no warning, nothing to prepare Teldin for what happened next. Suddenly, shockingly, something tore through the rigging above his head. Canvas ripped, and a secondary boom shattered, raining wood splinters onto the deck. Instinctively, Teldin ducked below the rail, shielding his head with his arms. He heard something else whoosh harmlessly overhead.

"I take it we're in ballista range," Aelfred said dryly.

"Ballista away!" Bubbo ordered.

The head gunner checked the aim a final time, then nodded to Dana. The gnome pulled the lanyard. With a force that Teldin could feel through the deck, the huge bow fired and the bolt, with its massive metal head, hissed toward the enemy ship. Before the bow limbs had stopped quivering, the crew had leaped to the windlass and were winching the bowstring back for another shot.

"Hit!" Bubbo called. "Good hit!" He stared at Dana with undisguised surprise.

Both catapults fired again, within a few heartbeats of each other. This time Teldin had better success tracking the shots. One massive stone flew wide, passing harmlessly below the deathspider's head. The second, though, flew straight and true, smashing into the hideous ship at the base of one of the legs. The leg tilted drunkenly, but didn't come away from the hull.

"Clear the rigging," Aelfred cried. "Lookout down."

The crewmen who'd been aloft in the ratlines scrambled down to the relative safety of the deck, while the lookout came down the mast from the crow's nest scarcely slower than he would have had he fallen freely. Precise maneuvering didn't count for much now, Teldin assumed, and there was little use in putting a man at risk at high lookout when anyone with the poorest eyesight could see the enemy perfectly well from the deck.

The two ships were closing fast now. The distance between them halved, then halved again. The deathspider loomed large and hideous, its red-lit bow ports like eyes glaring at the Probe, its spindly legs seeming to reach out to grasp the hammership. One ship, or maybe both, had changed course, and the spidership was now directly ahead of the Probe.

"Too close for catapults," Bubbo grumbled. "Release the crews?"

Aelfred nodded. "Catapult crews to damage control stations," he yelled.

Words formed in Teldin's mind. Are we to ram head-on? Estriss asked.

"No," Aelfred answered, "I've got something else in mind, but let 'em think we are."

The Probe's ballista fired again, at virtually point-blank range. Teldin watched the heavy missile slam straight into the bow of the deathspider. A circular port shattered, spraying debris into space. A strident cheer went up from the ballista crew….

And quickly turned to screams of horror and agony. A missile from the deathspider slammed into the Probe's forward turret, shattering the ballista and flinging the weapon's crew around like rag dolls. Without hesitation, Teldin hurled himself up the ladder and vaulted over the turret's rim.

The scene in the turret was total confusion. Wreckage was everywhere. When the enemy bolt had struck the hammer-ship's ballista, the considerable energy contained in the partially bent limbs of the big bow had been released and had to go somewhere. In this case, it had torn the heavy weapon apart, throwing fragments everywhere. Two of the turret crew were still up and moving-Dana among them, Teldin was happy to see-but even they were bleeding from multiple small wounds and seemed somewhat stunned. The other two, however… Teldin saw at once there was nothing he-or anyone else-could do for them. One was crumpled against the turret wall, his back bent the wrong way; the other apparently had been struck directly by the neogi's shot, and the enormous missile had torn him in two. Teldin averted his eyes from what was left of the unfortunate man and struggled to control his rising gorge.