Blood pulsing in his throat, Kheda kept his voice as calm as he could. 'I can reward you with more riches than you can imagine, fool of a barbarian. I am Daish Kheda, warlord of that domain.'

'And I'm the Emperor of Tormalin,' scoffed Dev breathlessly.

'You don't have some magic to know he's telling the truth?' Risala was genuinely surprised.

'You people do have some foolish notions about what magic can do.' Dev shook his head as far as he was able. 'Prove it.'

'Who else but a warlord would have the secret of disarming a wizard?' Kheda smiled with confident pride to mask his inner incredulity at what he was doing. 'Who else but the Daish warlord would risk himself in dealings with a mage in order to fight the magic that threatens his people? Why else would I hand you the valuable gift of knowledge of my true identity, if I wasn't trying to buy your cooperation.'

'Why does everyone else think the Daish warlord is dead?' retorted Dev, now trying in vain to find some purchase for his feet on the slippery deck.

Kheda pressed his weight down harder. 'Do you imagine I could have gone on such a quest with every eye on me, every tongue speculating as to what I might be planning?'

Dev's eyes narrowed. 'I don't imagine many other warlords would be too pleased to know what you're doing.'

'Then you can imagine what I'll be paying you, to keep your mouth shut about exactly how we drive these wizards out of the southern reaches,' countered Kheda coldly.

'Will you help us?' Risala demanded.

'I'll think about it.' Dev closed his eyes for a moment. 'If you haven't crushed the life out of me.'

'I'll let you free if you give your word not to fight again.' Kheda's own legs begged him to stand up.

'My word?' mocked Dev, his spirit returning. 'The word of a foul, deceitful, perverse wizard?'

'A wizard with no powers at present.' Kheda looked down at him, unblinking. 'A wizard I can hand over to any number of warlords who'll be only too happy to flay him alive.'

'You've already made a start on that, you bastard.' Dev's breath hissed between his teeth. 'I'll be no cursed use to you if I'm dead of blood poisoning.'

'Give me your word.' Kheda let his full weight press down again. 'If you keep it, that'll be worth some payment in its own right.'

'Show us we're wrong about wizards, we stupid Aldabreshi,' added Risala, her scepticism plain.

'I swear, by all that's holy—' Dev caught himself. 'By the fire that burns within my very bones, that I will help you fight the invaders and their wizards, just so long as you pay me all that you can. Betray me—' He paused and glared up at Kheda. 'And I will melt the flesh from your bones with sorcerous fire that will leave a stain on these islands for a full cycle of the heavens.'

Kheda got up, trying to disguise the shudder that racked him at those words. 'Good enough.' He paused, held Dev down with one knee and cut the key cord from around the bald man's waist. 'I'll hold these for the present, just to help keep you honest.'

Groaning, Dev rolled over. The back of his tunic was stained with blood and bright with broken glass. 'What have you done, drugged me? I don't feel doped but I can't feel the slightest touch of the elements.'

'That's my secret,' said Kheda shortly. He sat on the chest and grimaced as he picked glass out of his shin. 'Risala, can you get some wine to wash out everyone's wounds? And something to sweep up this glass?'

'Get the white brandy,' snapped Dev. 'In the basket with the blue withy rim.'

When Risala returned, stubby black bottle and a threadbare besom in her bloodied hands, Dev sat up and pulled off his tunic. 'See if you can clear up your new lover's mess.'

She didn't bother replying, simply handing the bottle to Kheda, before sitting to begin picking the fragments out of Dev's skin.

'Shit, that's sore!' Dev grabbed the brandy from Kheda and took a long drink.

Risala took the bottle from him and sluiced his wounds with the spirit.

'You're a lousy nurse, girlie,' Dev gasped.

'Find another,' she said unsympathetic, tearing a strip from his ruined tunic to wipe away the welling blood.

'I'll go ashore in the morning.' Kheda finished sweeping the broken glass into a pile and began gingerly tending his own wounds with a liquor-soaked scrap of cloth. 'Find the makings of a poultice for us all.'

'This is all the medicine I need.' Dev snatched back the bottle and glared at Kheda. 'Get lost and let me get some sleep.'

Kheda walked stiffly over to unlock the door to the hold. 'You sleep in here.' He went into the gloom to retrieve his soggy belongings.

'You can take your hammock,' Risala said sweetly.

'I'll thank you to remember I'm the owner of this ship, girlie.' Dev unhooked his hammock from the beams nevertheless, carrying the bundle of sailcloth and blankets through into the darkness. He slammed the door emphatically behind him. Kheda locked it.

'Keys, please.'

Kheda threw the bunch. Risala caught the cord and unlocked the big chest, pulling out hammocks and blankets.

Kheda reached up to hook one end of a canvas length to the beam. 'Do you think he can see in the dark?'

'Who cares?' Risala shrugged as she secured the other end. 'Do you think he can hear us?'

'Depends how much of that white liquor he's drunk.' Kheda helped her with the other hammock.

'When will he get his powers back?' asked Risala in a low voice as she shook out a blanket.

Kheda took it, pleasantly surprised to find it herb-scented and free from damp. 'I'm not entirely sure,' he said softly.

'What did you do?' Risala moved closer, voice dropping to a whisper.

'Shek Kul gave me a powder,' mouthed Kheda, unable to restrain a grin. 'He found the concoction in some ancient book of lore. I had no idea if it would work but I put it in his wine. A warlord's son is raised to be wary of poisons. That teaches you all the moves to spice someone else's drink.'

Risala raised herself on her toes to speak close to his ear. 'Could you do the same to the invaders' mages?' She smelled of warm dry cotton and clean hair. Her black locks had dried to a feathery tousle.

'Perhaps.' Kheda allowed himself to feel a little hope. 'Do you suppose they're all sots like Dev? Could we get them to drink it in one of his barrels of wine?'

Risala surprised both of them with a slightly hysterical giggle. 'Do you think it could be that easy?'

Kheda sighed ruefully. 'I very much doubt it.'

Risala swung herself into her hammock with a flash of honey-coloured legs. 'Do you want to put the lamp out?'

You sound like Efi not wanting to be left in the dark.

'No, not for the moment.' Kheda got into his own hammock and tucked the blanket around himself.

'Do you suppose Dev will still be there in the morning?' Risala wondered wearily.

'Let's worry about that then, shall we?' Kheda's cuts were stinging and he couldn't quite decide if his bruises or his much-abused muscles ached more. 'Thanks for your help. He might have had me if you hadn't caught his knife hand.' A new thought struck him. 'He called you a poet. Are you one?'

'I'm a lot of things, when I have to be.'

I recognise that note in a woman's voice as well. If you were Janne or Rekha talking, a determined roll over would leave me next to a silent back.

Risala couldn't roll over in a hammock but she pulled her blanket up over her chin all the same, hiding her eyes.

'Good night.' He reached out and snuffed the lamp.

I'll settle for being warm and dry, not dead with a wizard's blade in my guts and, finally, after all these endless leagues, not so very much alone. We can pursue all these other puzzles in the morning. We've got this far; that must be a sign in our favour.