Once she had quenched her hands, Risala hurried to the mast's ropes. Kheda moved to throw the water from the bucket over the leeward rail.

Is there any point trying to read whatever signs there might be in the cast? Would there be anything to see in water already soiled with magic, in seas that must be running with the taint? Will even the heaviest rains and the fiercest storms ever be able to scour these isles clean of sorcery?

He flung the water away, without looking to see how it flew through the air. Risala appeared at his side and handed him a leather water bottle. 'Want to learn how to sail this ship?'

Once he'd quenched his considerable thirst, helping Risala with the ropes gave Kheda something to concentrate on for the short voyage to the next island, to drive out the recollections of those Chazen dead and to still the ongoing debate with himself about just what he was going to do, to see these wizards driven out of the Archipelago.

Dev steered the little ship deftly into a secluded cove, barely beaching the hull on the shelving sand. 'Get us secure.'

Kheda and Risala didn't argue, each deploying an anchor before splashing ashore through waist-deep water. Dev soon joined them, turning for a moment to gaze intently at the Amigal.

'Is that magic?' Kheda watched, bemused as the vessel shimmered like something seen through a heat haze.

'Quiet as you can through the brush. I don't want to use any more magic than absolutely necessary.' Hefting a broad hacking knife, Dev led the way through the tangle of shrubs and saplings with unerring confidence.

Kheda gestured to Risala to follow the mage and brought up the rear, one hand on his dagger hilt, glancing backwards every few paces to make sure they weren't being stalked in turn. The noontide jungle was still and silent, the heat pressing down like a palpable weight.

A dry clear day, just when we could have done with rain to keep all these savages close to their huts and give us noise to cover our steps. What kind of omen is that? Are you leading us into some disaster, wizard? Though Daish Retk would have thought you a fair enough hunter, you move stealthily enough. I wonder what places you have been sneaking around, to learn all our secrets for your unwholesome trade.

Then again, you move just as quietly, Risala, and you're still a puzzle to be solved. What places have you visited for Shek Kul? What news have you sent him, in return for what reward I can't guess at? How do you send him your news? At least I feel certain I can trust you.

Kheda abandoned such musings when Dev halted up ahead, raising one hand in warning. Risala crouched low on the scrape of a path. Kheda moved cautiously to one side for a better view. They were on a tree-cloaked rise above a scatter of storehouses and modest dwellings much like the ones they'd seen ripped apart by magic. A narrow strip of shallow water patterned with corals separated the two halves of the village. Across the water from their vantage point, a wider beach boasted racks of drying nets and a row of fishing skiffs much like the one Risala sailed.

Kheda saw invaders lounging on both sides of the strait. In twos and threes, they were taking their ease beneath the broad shady eaves of the huts they had claimed; roughly equal numbers on both sides of the narrow strait. Quilts had been plundered to soften the ground, bright embroidery now wet and dirty, though the Chazen islanders' clothes had been scorned; the savages still only wore their brief leather loincloths. Archipelagan food hadn't found much more favour. Gourds and jars of carefully hoarded foodstuffs had been opened, sampled and tossed aside. Flies clustered around preserved fruits discarded to rot and the darkness would see bigger vermin sneaking towards a side of smoked deer meat left half eaten over a fire, curling in the sun.

Every skiff had been holed, gently curving hulls splintered and gaping. The little vessels had been dragged aside, shoved askew, left at the mercy of tide and storm. Their sails had been stripped away, some entirely, some leaving rags drooping from remnants of cut and tangled ropes. Most of the nets had been slashed, others burned, blackened remains hanging from the racks of scorched wood. Up beyond the high-water mark, a neat row of the invaders' log boats was drawn up like black tally marks on the sand, each one tethered to a firmly rooted stake.

'No beach defences as yet,' Dev murmured, sinking low to the ground. 'There're your stockades.'

'One for each side of the water,' Kheda noted, joining him. He could see heads huddled inside the wooden walls of the crude prisons in a vain attempt to find some shade.

Bark still clung to the posts, leaves wilted and brown on half-snapped twigs, Trampled scars in the forest showed where trees had been hacked down, the trunks split, driven deep into the ground and lashed together with vines. Single vines, bristling with the rootlets ripped from the trees, not even plaited into anything like a rope. Kheda noted there was no sign of any gate in either tightly fitted circle.

Dev was looking at the crude log boats. 'Whoever these people are, they're certainly not carpenters.'

Risala was keeping watch at their backs. 'Or fishermen. Or farmers.'

'We know they're warriors. That's enough if you simply steal to meet your needs.' There were plenty of weapons in plain sight, the same stone-studded clubs and spears of fire-hardened wood that he had seen before. Kheda glanced at Dev. 'Does being ruled by wizards give you the right to leech on the toil of others?'

'It gives you the power.' Dev laid a hand on Kheda's arm. 'Hush.'

The door of the biggest hut on their side of the water was opening. One of the savages lounging outside hurried in, head bowing like a river bird bobbing for fish. A stir ran through the other invaders, men rising to their elbows or sitting up, all their attention on the big hut.

That prompted curiosity on the far side of the water, the men gathering into fours and fives, some plucking spears from the sandy ground. A single runner hurried to hammer on the door of what had once been a sailer granary. Some of the savages strolled down to the water's edge, insolence in every line of their bodies. One waved a rough-hewn club and shouted unintelligible taunts. Scathing response and counter-insult echoed between the beaches.

'We'll need to move quickly if they come this way,' Kheda said urgently to Dev.

'They won't follow us through a wall of fire.' Dev was offhand. 'I can keep one between us and them until we can get back to the boat. This is just the usual bluster. I've seen plenty of it, though I've no idea what they get so heated about.'

To Kheda's relief, the activity on the beach subsided, most of the savages returning to their indolence, only a few remaining to continue the posturing. 'Your magic can't tell you what they're saying?'

I've spent my life being warned of all the evil magic can do. Now I find myself with this wizard as my most unwelcome ally, all he tells me is everything he cannot do.

'Not my spells.' Dev was unbothered. 'Sometimes they give up after tossing a few insults around, the wild men that is. Other times they come to blows, until one or other wizard calls his dogs to heel. We're not going to learn much from that.' His gaze fixed on the sparkling edge of the strait below and a malicious grin slowly curved his thin lips. 'I think I'll stoke the fire a little.'

The water glittered in the sunlight and slowly, imperceptibly, began to shimmer with an uncanny green light owing nothing to the sun above. Lapping on the sand, falling back and lapping again, the sea began to reach higher, every ripple advancing further up the shore towards them. The green glowed brighter, colouring the foam cresting the little waves. The water began to surge forward around the invaders' log boats. The emerald radiance darkened around them, gouts of spray scattered on the breeze as the boats began rolling, floating free in the magic's embrace.