The girl was just as drenched, ragged hair flattened, plastered across her honey-coloured face in black streaks, lips pale with cold. She clung to the tiller and to the rope governing the close-reefed sail, arms brutally wrenched by the wind's callous changes of direction.

When he'd got the water in the skiff's bottom down to a manageable level, Kheda worked his way awkwardly to the stern, every lurch threatening to throw him over the side. There was little point trying to make himself heard over the crash of the seas and the gale that was thrashing ropes and canvas into frenzy. He pointed wordlessly to the tiller. The girl let him take it, wrestling grim-faced with the vicious wind for mastery of the scrap of sail that was all they dared risk. Kheda sat beside her, the tiller gripped in both hands. The boat rocked and danced. Rain and sea alike battered them relentlessly in a tumult reflecting the turmoil of Kheda's own thoughts.

The stakes get higher with every turn of this game. Dealing with a barbarian claiming knowledge of northern wizardry is one thing; how do I deal with a proven user of magic? But what do I do, if I don't? Where else am I going to find any hope for my domain? If we live through this storm, it must surely be an omen. It must surely be a sign that we're following a path for the ultimate good of the Daish people, even if it does take me to a self-confessed wizard.

The girl's painful pinch on his cold arm startled him.

'We have to round that headland,' she yelled. 'I must lower the sail or we'll be driven on to the rocks.'

'Do it.' The boat rocked alarmingly as she crawled forward and brought the circumscribed sail crashing down, dragging the spars hastily out of his way. Kheda held out his hand, pulling her back to take over the tiller as he moved to the middle thwart and retrieved the oars. Rowing was agony, his chilled and strained muscles protesting with every stroke. Several times the rocking of the skiff left him pulling against empty air instead of sea with a sudden jerk that tore at his shoulders. Unable to see where they were headed, he fixed his trust in the girl clinging to the tiller, grim-faced as she looked beyond the little boat's prow. Kheda heard the crash of sea over rocks, the growl of surf on a stony shore. He ducked his head and pulled harder.

'Dev's ship!' The girl's cry, half relief, half apprehension, made Kheda look up.

He realised they had fought past the headland to win the relative calm of the leeward side. The seas were still running fast and furious but the oars no longer fought him so frantically. Twisting to look over his shoulder, he saw a small trading ship riding at anchor in the most sheltered part of the bay, sails furled and hatches tight barred.

Kheda shouted to the girl. 'If he's aboard, we ask for shelter. If he's not, we sit out this storm in the ship and think what to do next in the morning.'

She nodded fervent agreement and Kheda bent over the oars for one last effort. They reached the Amigal with a bump that set the ship rocking but the girl managed to reach up and grab the rail. Before Kheda could stop or help her, she swung herself aboard.

'Throw me a rope,' she yelled.

Kheda hastily tossed the oars into the bottom of the skiff and scrambled to the prow. He threw her the bow rope with numb, awkward hands and she caught it with a clumsy grab. As she wrapped it around the bigger ship's rail, Kheda retrieved their sodden belongings, hurling everything he could find up to the Amigal's deck. Bags landed with dull thuds and Kheda belatedly remembered Shek Kul's sealed box.

That'll be another sign, if that's survived intact.

'Come on.' The girl leaned over the rail, her hand outstretched.

Once aboard, Kheda looked uncertainly at the close-fitted stern hatch. 'Do you think he's here?'

The girl bit her lip. 'Only one way to find out.' She bent to pull the brass ring sunk into the hatch. As she did so, the wood rose up and smacked into her fingers.

'Risala, you ungrateful little bitch, what a surprise to see you here.' It was a genial enough greeting, apart from the actual words. 'You've brought company? Who said you could do that?'

'We're dying of wet and cold out here,' the girl said indistinctly, sucking on her stinging hand. 'Give us some shelter for pity's sake.'

'Plenty of shelter ashore.' But the man climbed up the ladder to open the hatch wider. 'All right, get in before we all drown.'

Kheda took the hatch and the man disappeared. The girl, Risala, gathered up their belongings and half slid, half fell down the ladder. Kheda followed as quickly as he could, pulling the hatch closed behind him. Dev was already back in his hammock, one leg dangling over the side, a horn cup resting on his belly cradled in both hands.

Kheda twisted the ring on the inner face of the hatch, turning a sturdy brass bar to secure it. He turned to Dev, composing his face to suitable gratitude. 'Thank you for taking us aboard.'

'Don't thank me yet,' Dev said cheerfully. 'I'll cut your throat and throw you overboard if you get on my nerves, won't I, Risala?'

'Doubtless,' she said shortly. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering uncontrollably. 'Just let us get warm and dry first.'

'Best get out of those wet things.' He leered at her.

'I'll change through there, thanks.' She jerked her head towards the main hold.

'Let you loose with my stock?' Dev raised his eyebrows. 'I think not.'

'Why don't you and I go through, Master Dev?' suggested Kheda tentatively. 'Risala,' he stumbled over the name and hoped he'd heard it right. 'You can change in here.'

'I don't know why my lady thinks her modesty is worth protecting. All right then, it'll give me a chance to see what you're made of. The curiosity in Dev's face was undisguised. He swung himself out of his hammock and took the lantern from its hook. 'You can work by feel, girl. I want a better look at your friend here.' He unlocked the door and gestured Kheda through.

'Look all you want.' Kheda pulled his saturated tunic over his head with some difficulty, the cloth clinging to his skin. 'There's not much to see.' He tugged at the drawstring of his trousers, the knot swollen and tight.

'I don't imagine that's what the ladies say,' Dev said slyly, raising the lantern.

Kheda registered the man's hairless chin for the first time. 'If you're a man's man, I'm sorry to disappoint you,' he said curtly.

He turned his back on Dev, shed the trousers and dug in his bag for other clothes.

'If there's anything dry in there, I'll eat it,' the other man mocked.

Kheda didn't turn round, wiping water from his body as best he could with his wrung-out tunic. 'If you've anything dry for us to wear, we'd be in your debt,' he said with carefully calculated mildness.

'Why should that interest me?' Dev's words were an unpleasant blend of scorn and amusement.

'I thought you were a trader.' Kheda shook out the pair of non-descript trousers Shek Kul's slave had given him for a change of clothes. They didn't actually drip but that was their only advantage over the garment oozing a puddle on the boards by his feet. 'Don't you trade in obligation?'

'When it suits me,' Dev allowed. 'It doesn't happen to suit me just now,' he added maliciously.

Kheda stepped into trousers that clung unpleasantly to his legs. 'Risala, are you dressed?'

'Yes.' She pushed open the door and the lamplight showed her in a thin dress clinging damply to her skinny body.

'Very fetching,' Dev admired before turning his attention back to Kheda. 'Has she told you what I am?'

'A vice peddler, selling liquor and leaf, dreamsmokes and the like.' Kheda leaned against the barrels he'd dumped his bag on, hands behind his back. 'And a wizard.'

'You came to see if it was true, did you?' challenged Dev. 'Another halfwit of a poet?'