“We have more urgent concerns than arguing among ourselves.” Temar spoke up with surprising authority. “We were taught in the cohorts to learn all we could about our foes. Who could tell us more about these pirates?”

“If only we still had Otrick to call on,” I sighed. The raffish and much missed Cloud Master had studied the workings of the winds through a lifetime of sailing with who’d ever give him passage. That had been pirates more than once.

“Velindre spent a lot of last year sailing the ocean coast,” Allin said hesitantly.

“She trawls round the rougher ends of the docks, does she?” I was amused. In our scant acquaintance, Velindre was one of those mages who presented a front of serene aloofness. Perhaps she had hidden depths.

Temar looked at Allin, concerned. “You mustn’t tire yourself.”

Allin laid her own small, soft fingers over his long and work-hardened ones. “I’m all right, truly. It’s fire magic after all, and Shiv’s right, you know. The more magic I work, the more I find I can do. ”

I caught Guinalle looking at Temar and Allin, her expression fixed.

“She’s in Hadrumal.” Allin set up a fresh candle and lit it with a snap of her fingers. “I really think she has hopes of being chosen for Cloud Mistress.”

If she was deceiving herself, the mage-woman was doing a lot of work for nothing. Allin’s spell caught Velindre in a library, sat at a broad table covered in open tomes stacked two or three high.

“Allin?” Velindre didn’t sound best pleased, drawing an anonymous sheet of parchment over the crabbed and faded writing she was studying.

“Hello, Velindre.” I heard the nervousness in Allin’s voice. “The Sieur D’Alsennin needs your help.”

“What manner of help?” The blonde wizard’s face was pale against the oak shelves loaded with age-darkened books.

“You’re more familiar with the ocean coast than anyone else we can think of,” Temar said courteously. “We find pirates have landed in Suthyfer and wondered if you might have some knowledge of them.”

Velindre looked cautious. “Possibly.”

“The leader flies a scarlet pennon with a snake on it,” Temar told her. “He’s dark, uncommonly tall and bearded.”

Velindre raised pale eyebrows. “That sounds like a villain called Muredarch.”

Ryshad’s arm tightened round me and we both took an involuntary step closer.

“He was a privateer working out of Inglis,” Velindre began.

Temar looked at Ryshad for explanation. “Traders play by Inglis rules or they don’t trade,” he said with contempt. “The Guild Masters post bounties on ships that ignore their tariffs or sail out of embargoed ports. Privateers go after them.”

“Most take any honest ship that falls foul of them as well,” added Velindre.

Ryshad nodded, severe. “They sell on the cargoes to traders who don’t ask questions or to Sieurs who pass off the goods as coming from their own estates. So where’s this Muredarch been lately?”

“Regin, I believe.” Velindre shrugged.

Temar wasn’t the only one looking to Ryshad for answers.

“The most southerly port on the Gulf coast and a real nest of snakes,” he explained. “Pirates know any law-abiding House’s ships won’t pursue them round the Cape of Winds. They’ll risk it when the alternative’s hanging in chains on the dockside. If they make safe landfall in Regin, they can sell all the evidence to the Archipelagans.”

“Before sailing happily up the Gulf coast with an innocent shipload of Aldabreshin spices, silks and gemstones,” concluded Velindre.

“Why’s this Muredarch in Suthyfer?” I wondered.

“He’s holding a mighty grudge against Inglis,” offered Velindre. “He took a guild letter condemning a Den Lajan ship but after Muredarch had set sail, the Sieur bought off the bounty.”

“So Muredarch didn’t get paid?” hazarded Ryshad.

“Worse,” Velindre told him. “He’d caught the ship and sold off the goods in Blacklith then came to Inglis looking to ransom the crew back to Den Lajan. The Guild Masters repudiated the bounty and told him to make Den Lajan’s losses good out of his own pocket. He refused and they posted a bounty on his own head and ship.”

“So every other pirate’s looking to nail his hide to their mast,” speculated Ryshad.

Velindre shook her head. “Not at all. No one will touch him. He’s a clever man and knows how to inspire loyalty as well as respect. Even if Inglis raised the bounty high enough to tempt some desperate captain, fear of the consequences would have his crew mutinying. For every tale of Muredarch’s bravery or boldness, there are two of his ruthlessness.”

“Where does he hail from?” I’d found clues to a man’s weaknesses in his origins more than once.

“There are a double handful of stories doing the rounds.” Velindre counted off fingers with incongruously bitten nails. “Bastard son of some noble House. One of two sons of an Inglis Guild Master who runs legal trade and piracy in tandem. Dispossessed chieftain of some Dalasorian nomads who took to the seas to escape his enemies. Those are the less fanciful speculations.”

“Where he came from is less important than where he is now,” Temar said firmly. “Madam mage, we would welcome—”

“My regrets, Esquire, I’m sorry, Messire, but I’m staying in Hadrumal.” Velindre addressed herself to Allin. “There are all manner of possibilities opening up here. You studied under Master Kalion and his influence seems to be on the rise. Troanna’s swaying the Council to her way of thinking as well. We could see ourselves with a new Stone Master as well as Cloud Master.” Was it my imagination or did a speculative look enter Velindre’s eyes? “Allin, you don’t happen to know where Usara’s got to, do you?”

The radiance of the magic circle dimmed. “I’m sorry,” Allin gasped. “I’m too tired.” The brilliance flared for an instant then dulled to shut out Velindre’s inquisitive face.

“I’m not really tired.” Allin looked guiltily up at Temar. “But I don’t want to get Shiv and ’Sar into trouble. Do you think she believed me?”

“So Hadrumal doesn’t know what they’re up to?” Ryshad was looking at me in a way that promised interrogation rather than pillow talk at bedtime.

I smiled blithely at him. “I imagine the Archmage knows what’s going on behind his back as well as under his nose. He always has before.”

Ryshad raised a quizzical brow at me.

“If we don’t involve him on Temar’s authority, that fat bastard Kalion can’t use his interest in Kellarin for a stick to beat him with.” I managed to sound entirely reasonable. I smiled at Ryshad again and won a grudging grin that eased my heart.

Shiv looked uneasily across the snowy linen tablecloth. “You really want that pair in on this?”

“Show me some alternatives,” invited Usara. “We’ve had no luck hiring a ship dealing with honest men.”

“So we deal with two we know to be dishonest?” Shiv grimaced. “Who could vanish with Ryshad’s coin quicker than butter in a dog’s mouth.”

“I’d rather risk that than being knifed in some dockside alley,” said Usara bluntly. “Anyway, they wouldn’t betray Livak, nor yet Halice.”

“You’re the one who’s travelled with them.” Shiv still looked unconvinced.

“I liked them.” Pered spoke up from the corner where he was stocking a leather satchel with bottles and brushes from a brass-bound chest.

“I’ll allow they were charming house guests but I’ve heard stories from Livak that threatened to curl my hair.” Shiv ran a hand over his dead straight locks. “And they’re like Livak; never do anything without looking for something to show for it. What have we to offer?”

“Sorgrad may claim he wants no schooling in his magic but Livak hinted that’s what he went looking for in Solura.” Usara’s eyes grew distant. “You know he’s got a double affinity?”

Shiv nodded. “Which makes his going untrained even more of a waste.”