‘Those sound like the kind of odds I’m used to.’

Phoenix frowned. ‘There’s no call to be flippant about this, Caldason.’

‘I was never more serious. However slim the chance, for me and for what’s left of the Resistance, I’m going to take it.’

‘Very well. In which case I can perhaps offer a little help in narrowing down the possible location you seek.’

Using his forefinger, the wizard swiftly drew a shimmering rectangle in the air, then made a hand gesture. The oblong began to fill with colours and shapes before clarifying to an expanse of blue-green overlaid with innumerable specks.

‘This is the area of the ocean where we suspect the Clepsydra isle’s located,’ Phoenix explained. ‘Over the past few months my colleagues and I have been extensively researching such records as we have to try and pinpoint the site more accurately. We haven’t met with complete success. Far from it. And let me caution you again that what we’re doing is highly theoretical and could be wrong-headed. But we believe we can reduce the options…so.’ He touched the glamour map near its top right-hand corner, where the specks were most numerous. Instantly, the chart dissolved, to be replaced by a close-up of the section he’d indicated. The specks had grown to blobs with more definable, irregular shapes. ‘Our best guess is that what you seek lies within this cluster.’

‘That’s, what? Forty, fifty islands?’ Caldason estimated.

‘Approximately, yes. Still a sizeable number but nowhere near the hundreds making up the entire group.’

‘How big are they?’ Pallidea wondered, gazing at the floating chart.

‘The largest are no more than about a tenth of the size of the Diamond Isle. The majority are much smaller, and some are little more than rocks. Which may have some bearing on your search, Reeth, if we were to assume the very smallest are the least likely locations. But of course, not knowing what form the Source or indeed the Clepsydra takes, we can’t necessarily make that assumption.’

‘Well, it’s some help I suppose,’ Caldason said.

‘I’ll see that your skipper has a copy of this,’ Phoenix promised. He waved his hand. The map faded to golden embers, and died, leaving a sulphurous whiff in the brittle air.

‘Things seem to be progressing well,’ Darrok judged. ‘At this rate you’ll be able to set off pretty soon, Reeth. Or at least once we’ve done something about Rukanis.’

‘I should have asked before, I suppose, but I hope my absence won’t hinder your being able to deal with the pirates.’

‘I think we’ll manage without you for a while,’ Darrok responded dryly. ‘After all, I’ve been defending this place for quite a few years already. Without any outside help.’

‘Ouch,’ Serrah mouthed.

‘Besides,’ Darrok went on, ‘I’ve unfinished business with Vance, as you know, and I think it’s something I’d rather like to settle personally.’

‘That I can understand,’ Caldason granted.

‘So I reckon the best thing we can do now is-’

‘What the hell is that?’ Serrah pointed inland.

They all looked to a patch of level grassland beyond the beach. A strange contraption was slowly making its way across the sward. It was an open wagon, unremarkable in itself, except that it lacked shafts or a horse to pull it. Somebody clad in blue robes sat in the driver’s seat, but with their hands in their lap, having no need of reins.

‘Ah,’ Phoenix said. ‘That’s Frakk, a sorcerer who escaped here from Bhealfa. An independent; not a Covenant member or anything.’

‘But what’s he doing?’ Serrah wanted to know.

‘Testing a very ingenious idea. A carriage powered by magical essence. In fact, he could be the only person who fled here not out of conviction but pique.’

‘What?’

‘He tried to get various people interested in it back in Bhealfa. He even approached the paladins with the contraption. Apparently demonstrated it for the Bastorrans themselves, no less. They treated it as a joke and subjected him to public humiliation, and very nearly a whipping. He was so outraged he threw in his lot with the Resistance and brought the idea to us.’

‘It’s weird.’

‘But clever,’ Darrok said. ‘One of those notions that seems so simple you wonder why nobody thought of it before. Phoenix here has been helping with some modifications.’

‘Yes,’ the wizard confirmed. ‘It used to run on a store of magical energy carried on board. Now were getting it to run by drawing its motive force directly from the power grid.’

‘I thought it was original enough to warrant the allocation of some resources,’ Darrok explained.

‘It’s certainly original,’ Caldason agreed, watching as the device bumped across its muddy field. ‘But what are we going to use it for?’

Darrok shrugged. ‘Damned if I know.’

Much of the easternmost region of Bhealfa consisted of meandering rivers and scrubland. For Prince Melyobar’s court, travelling above ground, the terrain was irrelevant, but it presented many problems for the innumerable camp followers trailing the flying palaces. As a consequence, the court was forced to slow down.

While any diminution of pace was guaranteed to make the Prince nervous, for Devlor Bastorran and Lahon Meakin it came as a small relief.

They sat in the back of a carriage being driven at speed across the inhospitable landscape. The mud-splattered carriage bumped and rolled, throwing them about in their seats and rattling their bones.

‘Damn the man!’ Bastorran cursed.

‘Sir?’

‘Melyobar. I go through this wretched performance every time I’m obliged to meet him.’

‘You’ve been granted an audience before, sir?’

‘Several times, when I accompanied my uncle. It was always a farce.’

‘But this time’s different, isn’t it, sir? Your first meeting with His Highness since you became High Chief.’

‘And it’s only happening now because I can’t put it off any longer. If protocol didn’t demand it, I wouldn’t be here at all. You look shocked, Meakin. Find my attitude disloyal, do you?’

‘Er, no, sir. That is…well, a little surprising perhaps.’

‘I’m as devoted to the institution of monarchy as the next man. More so than the Prince, I’d venture. Be honest, you can’t pretend you don’t know the stories about him.’

‘There are always rumours, sir, and admittedly most of them are odd.’

‘Everything you’ve heard about Melyobar is true, and more. He isn’t a patch on the old King, Narbetton. And be warned: you will not, of course, address the Prince of your own volition. Should he speak to you, be brief and circumspect in your answers. You smile, but this is a serious matter.’

‘Sir.’ Meakin’s demeanour was instantly solemn.

‘The man has some…let’s say unusual notions. Showing disrespect for them, or gods forbid, questioning them, is more than an indiscretion; it’s downright dangerous. So keep your mouth shut and follow my lead.’

‘Yes, sir.’

They bumped over a particularly deep pothole. Bastorran swore vehemently under his breath. Meakin leaned to his window and gazed at the hovering palace. Its enormity was astonishing. It led an unruly procession of lesser, but still massive, floating structures that blotted out the sky.

‘Ever seen it before?’ Bastorran said.

‘Once. When I was much younger, sir. With my mother and brother, and from a distance. But I’ve never forgotten it.’

His master gave an offhand grunt, uninterested, and muttered, ‘You’ll be seeing it much closer soon enough.’

If the airborne convoy inspired wonderment, what was happening below stirred a different kind of awe.

Their carriage bounced along in a torrent of humanity. As far as they could see on all sides a kind of insanity was on the hoof: an incalculable number of wagons, coaches, traps, gigs, landaus and carts thundered across the land. Like seagoing craft they traversed an ocean of uniformed and civilian mounted riders, and far to the rear of the wheeled conveyances and charging horses a multitude of people strained to keep up on foot. The scene was reminiscent of a free-for-all land-grab or gold rush. Except the aim was to keep pace with the spectacle passing overhead.