Scaling the netting covering the port side of the Calaian Sun, he dropped onto the deck and shook hands with the ship's master, Captain Jevin. The elven sailor smiled a little too knowingly.

'Hoping to develop sea legs a little quicker this time?' he asked.

'Just tell me it's not a long journey,' replied Ilkar.

'Three days if the weather holds.' Jevin's eyes sparkled. 'Still, there's a healthy eight- to ten-foot swell out there and you know how capricious the weather can be.'

'I'm so glad I asked.'

Jevin laughed and gestured aft. 'Same cabin, Ilkar. Make yourself comfortable.'

Ilkar hefted his bag and moved off along the sleek vessel, nodding at any of the crew who had time to look up as he passed. All elven, the ship and her crew had played a pivotal role in stopping the Dordovans capturing Lyanna, risking their own lives for a wholly inadequate price to take The Raven across the storm-ravaged Southern Ocean. It was a debt that could never properly be repaid, not with mere coin though they were now pledged a good deal of that. But all Ilkar hoped for was a calm enough sea. Feeling the first twinges in his stomach at just the thought, he went below.

In quick time, The Raven were all aboard, netting and boats were stowed and the anchor was weighed. Ilkar joined Hirad at the rail to watch Herendeneth slip away aft, Jevin setting only topsail and foresail for the delicate journey out of the treacherous waters of the Ornouth Archipelago.

Above them, wheeling and calling in the sky, the Kaan dragons watched them go. Beside Ilkar, Hirad was smiling.

'Sha-Kaan having a few words, is he?' asked the elf.

Hirad nodded. 'He's talking about you, actually.'

'Oh, terrific.'

Ilkar didn't get on with the dragons. Not that anyone really did. Except Hirad of course. Something about the thick skin they shared, or so went the joke. But then, Hirad and Sha-Kaan had a unique relationship, part of which allowed their minds to touch, facilitating telepathic communication.

'What's he saying, exactly?'

'Well, I mentioned that you were concerned about the Xeteskians on Herendeneth,' explained Hirad. 'He said he'd make sure they didn't step out of line, so to speak.'

'Oh,' said Ilkar. 'I rather thought he might be coming along with us. Calaius would be very much to his liking, climate-wise.'

'Come off it, Ilks. Wake up. He has to get home, so he's staying to work with the Al-Drechar and the Xeteskians. I'd have thought you'd be pleased – it gives us direct communication to Herendeneth. At least you'll know what's going on.'

'I thought that was what Aeb was coming for?' Ilkar frowned.

Hirad turned to face him. 'This has all really got to you, hasn't it?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, it's just that it's unlike you to be so thick, that's what.'

'Thanks for being so tactful.'

'Sorry.' Hirad smiled. 'Look, Aeb is Denser's Given Protector, and anyway The Unknown likes him and needs him to fight on his left; that's why he's here. And, let's face it, his communication with the other Protectors is hardly going to be independent, is it? Any information they get will be from the Xeteskian mages.'

'I suppose.'

Ilkar turned and leaned his back against the rail. Hirad was right; he didn't feel clear-headed at all. And of course everything the barbarian said made perfect sense. He shook his head ruefully and looked about him. So, here they all were again, but it didn't feel quite right, not yet anyway. And the reason for that was clear enough and was surely why The Unknown was so keen that Erienne and Thraun were on the ship.

It was because they were travelling with people who would never be true members of The Raven. Ilkar could remember clearly when Thraun came to the group. Even though he had been a stranger, there was somehow no doubt he was one of them. To a certain extent, the same was true of Darrick, though he would have to learn to open up more. But Aeb, well, he wasn't Raven. He was a Protector first and that was wrong. The same went for Ren. She was with them because she loved him, was a Calaian elf, an archer of consummate skill and a useful fighter. But she didn't understand what being in The Raven meant. Her loyalty to the Guild of Drech, who looked after the Al-Drechar, was no training for the total belief she had to be able to show in The Raven to be one of them. The problem she had at the moment was that she thought the two were similar.

What made Ilkar anxious, despite his personal feelings for her, was that he knew she wouldn't have been invited to join Balaia's foremost mercenary team in normal circumstances. And that made Hirad and The Unknown particularly uncomfortable. Ilkar could see some difficult times ahead.

He sighed and turned back to the rail. The Unknown was to his left, still waving to Diera and Jonas who were watching from the beach. Another tearful parting. He patted the big warrior on the shoulder.

'Don't worry. We'll be back soon enough.'

The Unknown looked at him and smiled rather sadly. 'Now Ilkar,' he said, 'neither you nor I believe for one moment that is true, do we?' Selik blamed the loss of Balaia's beauty on the curse of magic. In a lighter mood he might have added his own face to the losses, ruined as it had been by the bitch Erienne's IceWind six years before, but this was no time for levity.

He'd thought he'd seen everything, but riding at the head of his fifty-strong band of ever-hungry but resourceful men into Erskan, he saw the hardest sight of all. On the outskirts of the once comfortable if not prosperous castle town, two boys were advancing on a girl, knives in their grubby hands. The girl was backing away, eyes wide and fearful, desperate for a way out but unwilling to give up what she had clutched to her chest. None of them was more than seven years old.

Selik ordered his men to stop before riding in alone, looking around for any local men or women who might have intervened. Apparently, though, this end of the cobbled main road into the heart of Erskan was deserted.

The two boys ignored him as he reined in and dismounted but the girl stared at him, not sure if he was saviour or robber. He stepped smoothly between them, shielding the girl, his cloak billowing, giving her assailants no sight of her. His hood he kept well forward. He had no intention of showing them his face.

'Must we steal from our sisters to survive?' he slurred through his partly paralysed mouth.

'She won't share,' said one of the boys, his eyes sunken into a face gaunt with hunger.

'But does she have enough to share, I wonder?' asked Selik. 'And would you have shared with her, eh?'

He turned his head to see the girl, dirty-faced with short black hair and tiny ears, weighing up whether or not to run. He held out a hand. 'Stand by me, child. They won't harm you.'

Reluctantly, she did so, her hand small and fragile in his fingers. He smiled, happy she couldn't see what it did to his face.

'Now,' he said gently. 'Show me what you were so keen to have to yourself.'

The other hand came away from her chest to display her prize. It was bread, a filthy crust, but there wasn't enough to satisfy one of these tattered children and what there was came covered in dirt and speckled with lurid mould. That they would fight over this…

'I tell you what,' he said, trying to mask his disgust. 'Why don't you give me that and I'll fetch food enough for you all?'

The girl gaped in amazement but the boys, who had been shifting about nervously, unwilling to desert any potential scrap to eat, frowned in concert.

'Why would you do that?' asked the other boy, a freckle-faced lad with filthy light brown hair and dried snot on his upper lip. He wasn't dressed in rags, it was just that his clothes had been worn too long. They were shabby, but not in tatters.