Olret was talking a little too fast and with rather too much forced friendliness but for the present I’d settle for getting clean and dry and filling my belly. The man with the staff appeared as soon as Olret shouted for him and we dutifully followed him up to the first floor of the keep. The building proved to have a stair on either side joined by a corridor running through the centre, rooms on either side. I was ushered into a snug cubbyhole barely big enough for the bed blanketed with weaving which made best use of all the shades of the local goats. This was presumably to protect my virtue since the others got a larger bedchamber to share. Maidservants scurried hither and thither with ewers of hot water as lackeys hauled in baths. They mostly managed the carefully blank faces of servants interrupted by unexpected guests but one lass betrayed anxious glances at the stairs leading up to the higher levels. I guessed she had duties above that had to be completed, irrespective of other calls on her time. That kind of thing had been one of the many injustices that had set me against a life in service to others.

The bath was bliss. To be warm all the way through again was utter rapture and, as well as scented soaps, someone thoughtful had set a pot of pale salve out on the tiny dresser next to the narrow bed. It soothed the split in my lip and my chapped hands wonderfully. I was rubbing in a second application when a knock sounded on the door.

“Livak?” It was Ryshad.

“Come in.”

He shut the door and leaned against it, smiling with blatant appreciation at my nakedness. Freshly shaven, black hair curling damply around his ears, he wore clean breeches and a shirt which he hadn’t bothered lacing.

“What’s everyone else doing?” I sat up and hugged my knees.

“I drew the lucky rune so Shiv’s only just got his turn in a bath. Sorgrad and ’Gren are arguing over who’s going to wear the one smart doublet they’ve got between them.” Ryshad held out a towel and I stepped into his embrace.

He held me close and kissed me with an urgency that roused my own desire. “Shall I lock the door?”

“There’s no key.” I kissed him back, running my free hand up into his hair. “But I could take care of that.” I let the towel fall disregarded to the floor.

“That might cause comment, if someone tried the door.” Ryshad bent to kiss the base of my neck and I shivered with delicious anticipation as his breath tickled. He cupped my breast and I could tell someone had given him a salve for softening roughened hands as well.

“Stand the dresser by it?” I suggested when I could concentrate again.

“Good idea.” He slapped my rump with gentle approval.

I had the coverlets turned down on the bed before Ryshad had the door blocked and he swept me off my feet with a flurry of kisses, caresses and laughter. I pulled the shirt over his head as he kicked himself free of his breeches and we lost ourselves among the soft woollen blankets. If I’d thought the bath had been ecstasy, I’d been wrong. I didn’t care if Olret had adepts spying on us. All they would have learned was how completely the two of us could become one, when it was just the two of us, open either to other, giving, yielding. No differences of upbringing and experience could come between us, no divergence of attitude or expectation could distance us, no friends or ties of loyalty could pull us apart. Moving in instinctive harmony, every sense alive to touch and kisses, coming together in the ultimate intimacy, I knew beyond question that I loved Ryshad and he loved me. In that simplest of moments, nothing else mattered. We lay entwined, breath slowing, a lazy smile on Ryshad’s face as I brushed curls from his forehead now damp with sweat.

A single apologetic knock sounded softly at the door. “If you’re ready, we’re invited downstairs for more food.”

I smiled at the barely concealed amusement in Sorgrad’s voice. “We’ll be out in a few moments.”

Temar!” Allin waved from the door of the cabin.

“Finally,” breathed Temar. “Excuse me, Master Jevon.”

The Dulse’s captain looked expectant. “Them pirates on the move?”

“Let’s hope so,” Temar said fervently. He walked briskly up the beach, noting Halice abandoning some animated discussion with the Maelstrom’s boatswain and heading for the hut. So he wasn’t the only one frustrated by these past few days of tense boredom. Nervousness teased Temar. What would Muredarch’s new challenge be? Would he be a match for it?

“What is it?” After the bright sun outside, he blinked in the gloom of the cabin. It was still stuffy and oppressive even after he had drafted some of Kellarin’s carpenters to cut windows through the walls and hang shutters.

Larissa and Allin flanked Usara who was looking intently at Guinalle.

“Muredarch just set sail in the sloop. He’s coming north.” The demoiselle was pale in the dim light, shadows like bruises beneath her weary eyes. “They brought a prisoner out of the stockade but muffled in a sack. I can’t tell who it is, not with the Elietimm warding the place so closely.”

Temar looked at Usara. “These enchanters aren’t harrying you so much you can’t maintain the blockade?”

“As long as we’re working within direct sight, we’re proof against them,” Usara assured him.

“The winds are still against Muredarch, no matter what direction he might try fleeing in,” said Larissa pertly.

“Those Elietimm only ever work together, which limits their scope.” Contempt enlivened Guinalle’s tone. “If they stray too close, I warn our mages to cease their working.”

Halice frowned. “Which is all very well as long as they stay stupid. What if they start working separately?”

“Separately, they will be vulnerable to me.” Guinalle didn’t sound as if she relished that prospect.

“Let’s go and see what Muredarch has to offer,” Temar suggested.

Everyone moved towards the door, Guinalle the most reluctant. Temar hurried ahead to warn Darni what was afoot. “And Larissa will stay with you this time,” he concluded, deliberately not reacting as he heard the mage-girl’s protest behind him. Darni’s reply drowned out whatever it was Usara said to her.

“That’s well enough by me.” The big man grinned ferociously before raising an almighty bellow. “On your feet! First corps, take the watch! Second corps, you can use the time for some sword drill. If those bastards think they’re coming here, you can meet them with a blade in your hand.”

Halice’s mercenaries were the heart of the first corps, along with those of Sorgrad’s recruits whose skills matched up to their often vague claims of experience in battle. Deglain and Minare each took a detachment to the headlands now readied with treetop vantage points and fuelled beacons. The second corps gathered on the beach with eager faces. Kellarin’s men were determined to outshine the sailors who were in turn set on improving Halice’s opinion of their skills. As the Dulse’s crew lofted her sails, Temar watched his men cut and thrust and parry and stab with growing pride.

“What do you think?” he asked Halice as she came to join him.

“I want them a cursed sight more practised before push comes to shove.” Halice looked towards Suthyfer. “And I want to know what goad Muredarch thinks he’s found today”

Temar looked up at the aftdeck where Usara and Allin were deep in conversation with Guinalle. “How much more do you think the demoiselle can stand?” he asked Halice in a low voice.

“Hard to tell,” the mercenary admitted frankly. “She’s a will of iron, that much is certain but one hard blow can shatter iron. It all depends if she’s cast or wrought.”

That was precious little reassurance to Temar but, as he kept covert watch on Guinalle, he was encouraged to see some of the strain lifting from her face as she discussed whatever it was with Usara.