‘Grateful be damned. We’re perfectly capable of dealing with this rabble without your help. I want you out of here.’

‘All right, all right. I’m going.’

‘Oh, no, I’m not taking your word for it. You’re leaving under escort. I’ll have my aide go with you.’ He looked around. ‘Where the devil is the man? Where’s Meakin?’ he yelled at two lieutenants twenty paces distant. They shrugged and shook their heads. ‘Well, find him!’ he bellowed. The pair scurried off.

‘It’s wonderful,’ Aphri told him.

‘What is?’

‘The new state I’m in. The connection with the grid. I’ve never felt so powerful.’

‘I know,’ Bastorran said. ‘But do me a favour, Kordenza. Save it for Caldason.’

Sluggish winter tides lapped the Diamond Isle’s shoreline. The sky was overcast and the air raw.

There was activity everywhere. Lookouts haunted cliff tops, guards patrolled the seashore, civilians were coached in spear and sword. Fortifications and defensive lines were being erected throughout the island.

Several score men and women toiled on a beach in the shadow of the terraced fortress, some working with long-handled spades while others knelt, busying themselves with trowels. Carpenters hefted stacks of narrow timber planks. Braziers, cauldrons and anvils were scattered about the place.

Two well wrapped figures watched from a nearby promontory.

‘What are they doing?’ Kutch said.

‘Being inventive,’ Caldason replied. ‘That’s something human beings are pretty good at when their backs are to the wall.’ He pointed at the people digging. ‘They’re using the sand to make moulds for arrow heads, spear tips, even some sword blades. The metal’s heated in the kilns over on that side, and they use the wooden blocks to carry the cauldrons. It’s crude, but effective.’

‘Don’t we have enough weapons already?’

‘We can’t have too many in a situation like this. And some you can’t easily retrieve once you’ve used them, like arrows. You have to assume they’re single use. So we’ve set a target of turning out twenty thousand arrow heads.’

Kutch whistled. ‘That’s a lot.’

‘It’s nowhere near enough. Think about it. Say two hundred archers use fifty arrows each and that’s half of them gone. We could get through that many in one engagement.’

‘It doesn’t sound much when you put it that way.’

‘It’s the same with the number of people we have to defend this place. But don’t get me started on that.’ Caldason turned away from the scene. ‘If we get a move on we can make supper at the redoubt. What do you say?’

‘I’m starving.’

‘Good. Let’s go.’

They had use of a small, two-wheeled farm cart, with a mare to pull it. As most of the island’s roads were ill-kept, many of them little more than trails, the going was bumpy.

Five minutes into their journey they saw a work gang felling a small wood close to the road.

‘We seem to be cutting down an awful lot of trees,’ Kutch said.

‘All those arrow heads need shafts,’ Caldason reminded him, ‘and we have to have bows and spear shanks. Not to mention fuel.’

‘What if we run out of wood?’

‘Whether it lasts depends on how long we’re holed up here. Actually, timber’s abundant. I’m more worried about victuals. Water’s all right; we have wells. But food could be a problem. Darrok built up a store of dried goods, but there’s not a lot in the way of fresh produce, particularly in winter. There’s fish, of course, though the waters are getting too dangerous for that.’

‘You still think there’ll be an invasion?’

‘Nothing’s made me think otherwise.’

‘Can we hold out?’

‘Truthfully?’

‘I always expect you to tell me the truth, Reeth.’

‘Of course. Then…probably not.’

‘Oh.’

‘But that’s on paper, so to speak. As I said, people can be inventive when they’re up against it. They can be incredibly brave, too. And all sorts of things could turn the tide in our favour.’

‘Like finding the Source?’

‘You know I’ve got hopes pinned on that for myself, but we shouldn’t rely on it to save us. We don’t really know what it is, and I might not find it.’

‘You’ve always been one for going against the odds, Reeth.’

Caldason smiled. ‘Maybe. But I try to be prepared when I do it. Talking of which, I wish you’d let me teach you some sword craft.’

‘I’m not sure I’m really cut out for that.’

‘Anybody can pick up a few pointers, and you’re young and reasonably fit. I’d feel better if you had some basic self-defence skills, given what’s coming.’

‘Well, perhaps you could teach me a few essentials. But I think magic serves me better.’

‘Force of arms is more likely to be the deciding factor in defending the island. Magic might not be much use.’

‘They’ll be using it against us, won’t they? We have to have a way of countering that. You’ve such a strange attitude to the Craft, Reeth. On the one hand you hate magic, and on the other you look to it for salvation.’

‘Only because I’ve no choice. But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about what’s happening here. I’ve been in a lot of conflicts, and most of them have been settled with blades, not magic.’

‘Magic shapes our world, Reeth. It can do stupendous things. That was something I first saw when I wasn’t much more than a baby.’

‘What did you see?’

‘Melyobar’s flying palace. I was with my mother, I think. I can’t remember. But I’ve never forgotten the palace. It must have been…I don’t know; a long way off, and the sun was setting behind it, brilliantly red. It was fabulous.’

‘I can imagine that would leave a mark on a child.’

‘So much so that when Master Domex came to take me away I wasn’t so unhappy about it. I mean, I hated leaving my mother and everything, but I thought we’d be making palaces fly.’ He grinned. ‘It wasn’t quite like that, of course.’

‘I remember a time before the palace was built. Actually saw it under construction if I recall.’

‘I keep forgetting how old you are, Reeth. It must be weird having memories going back that far.’

‘You might have far-reaching memories yourself one day,’ the Qalochian replied dryly, ‘if you’re lucky enough to live to an old age. But if your best example of what magic can do is a madman’s folly-’

‘It isn’t. I’m just saying it can do astonishing things.’

‘Like subjugating the population? Stupefying them with illusions? Corrupting their values?’

‘That’s not magic’s fault. It’s the people who use it. In the same way you’d use the Source for good if you found it.’

‘And how are you going to change human nature?’

‘I think people can be good if they’re given the chance.’

‘There are always the bad, Kutch, no matter what you do.’

They were arriving at the redoubt. The renovation and fortifying work on the stronghold was almost finished, though scores of people still laboured there.

Caldason drew the cart to a halt. As they climbed down, he added, ‘The truth is I prefer the honesty of blades. Magic’s too damned complex, apart from anything else.’

‘Not once you’re attuned to it,’ Kutch told him. He looked around and spotted a small pile of logs. ‘See.’ His hands performed an esoteric gesture. He gazed intently.

One of the logs shuddered slightly. A corner lifted. Then the log rose from the heap and hung in the air. Kutch moved his outstretched finger. The log aped it, swaying from side to side as though floating on agitated water. A second later it dropped back onto the pile with a dull thud.

From the look on Kutch’s face it had been a physical effort. He turned to Caldason and beamed.

‘Impressive. But it’s hardly going to stop an invasion fleet, is it?’

Caldason headed for the fortress’s cavernous entrance. Kutch followed, seething.

A wide central corridor bisected the building’s ground floor. The door they were making for, near its far end, led to a dining hall. Before they reached it, they heard raised voices close to hand. Familiar voices, coming from a room they were about to pass. Reeth and Kutch exchanged a look. Caldason opened the door.