Obeying at once, K'jarr changed course. As they watched, a large area of the sea roiled and burbled. Then a dark crow's nest broke through the waves. The Black Ships were surfacing.

Amid upheavals of dark seawater, all seven vessels burst from the ocean at once. As one, their black sails snapped open and the warships lurched forward, bounding across the waves.

Her mouth hanging open, all Tyranny could do was to hold on to K'jarr and stare at the vessels, awestruck. K'jarr stopped to hover, and the warriors carrying Scars and Shailiha came up alongside.

Each of the deadly looking vessels was easily five or six times the size of the Reprise. White-skinned demonslavers poured over their decks. In her current condition, Tyranny's flagship didn't have a chance of outrunning them, and the privateer knew it.

"Get closer." As she and K'jarr neared, Tyranny got her first glimpse of one of the Black Ships' skeletal captains. He rode the bow of his surging ship, holding on to the rigging with one fleshless arm. His bones were as black as the vessel that carried him. His tattered uniform seemed somehow familiar, but she couldn't place it. His eyes glowed with an eerie green; his teeth were white against the black of his skinless head. The moonlight glinted off the blade of the shiny sword he held aloft.

The nighttime sky began to glow with azure for leagues in every direction, turning night into day. Swiveling her gaze back toward the Citadel, Tyranny squinted against the brilliant light.

Two men and a woman stood on the shore. From this distance Tyranny couldn't identify the obviously pregnant woman in the red gown, or the fellow in the dark blue robe. But she knew the other man-the one in the emerald-green silk jacket and matching trousers. It was Wulfgar.

The Enseterat's arms were raised, the glow streaming from his open hands setting the night sky wildly alight.

Before Tyranny could order K'jarr and the others to flee, Wulfgar pointed in their direction. A narrow beam shot straight at them. Tyranny had never seen a bolt of the craft launched from so far away.

The three warriors scattered frantically, the bolt narrowly missing them. As it roared past, Tyranny could feel its heat and wind tear at her hair and clothing. The force of the blast turned K'jarr over. With Tyranny holding on for dear life, he tumbled nearly fifty meters before stabilizing himself again. Trying to take stock of her surroundings, Tyranny saw that the other warriors still carried their passengers. Blessedly, none of them seemed to have been hurt.

More azure bolts coursed through the air. Tyranny could see that the unknown man and woman were adding their own magic to Wulfgar's. Soon the sky was full of the deadly streaking shafts.

"Get us out of here!" Tyranny screamed. "Back to the litter!"

With Tyranny, Scars, and Shailiha holding on tight, the three warriors turned and flew northwest as fast as their wings could take them. As they put some distance between themselves and the Citadel, the onslaught of azure bolts finally stopped.

Thinking that they might finally be safe, Tyranny sighed in relief. Then she looked down again, and a chill went through her.

The seven Black Ships were chasing them.

The pursuing warships sailed in a straight battle line. Their speed was amazing, but they were not quite able to maintain the pace of the flying warriors, and they slowly lost ground. At first Tyranny was elated. But even Minion warriors would eventually tire, she realized.

The Black Ships remained on course like a pack of dogs following a scent. Then she saw azure again-not in the sky, but upon the sea. The Black Ships were glowing.

She watched in awe as the mighty vessels took on the color of the craft. The aura started at the vessels' sterns, slowly engulfing each ship as it moved toward the bow and replacing black with the most brilliant hue of the craft she had ever seen.

Tyranny had to admit that the vessels were magnificent. She looked over at Shailiha and Scars and saw that they were equally entranced.

Suddenly she heard a great rumbling. Louder and louder it became, until she realized that it was coming from the vessels.

The Black Ships were rising from the water.

At first she thought she was seeing things. She blinked her eyes and looked again, but the scene remained the same. Seawater ran from the ships' bottoms as they rose about ten meters above the waves. Their speed increased. Tyranny looked over at Shailiha. Her face grim, the princess shook her head.

The Black Ships were gaining on them. Tyranny knew that the litter couldn't be far away now. But if she caused it to glow, the ships' captains would surely see it. If the Black Ships destroyed the litter, not only might they lose the remaining Minions, Micah, and the captured slaver, but the enchanted sextant would be lost as well. Worse yet, they still had to return to the Reprise well ahead of their pursuers, and Faegan's portal would be leagues away from there, if it opened at all.

Then she remembered something she had so glibly asked all of the others not so long ago, back inside the demonslaver guardhouse. If the Jin'Sai were here, she wondered, what would he do?

Panic gripped her; she had never been so unsure of herself in her life. Turning, she gazed forward and searched for the tiny litter.

Suddenly she remembered the last command in Old Eutracian that Faegan had written down for her. He had told her to use it only in the direst of emergencies, for it would be difficult to control and he couldn't guarantee how long it might last. Now it seemed their only hope. But first they would have to reach the litter well ahead of the Black Ships. Behind them, she could see the dark hulls looming ever closer.

The chase was on.

As Faegan sat alone in the chilly, subterranean room, he pulled the shawl closer around his shoulders. One night and much of the next day had passed since he and his group had been trapped here in Valrenkium, and he could still see no way out of their troubles. The blue-tinted blocks of ice standing against the walls twinkled back at him, only adding to his sense of outrage and disgust.

He had ordered the entire village searched once more. This time, Reznik's cellar had been discovered. Now one of Reznik's handwritten texts lay open in the wizard's lap. He was hoping that he might find notes to guide him in removing the strange stone lattice that entrapped them. So far, he had had no luck.

Faegan was beginning to develop a feel for Reznik and his ways. Like Satine, Reznik was not only ruthless but also an expert in his chosen field. There would have been nothing, Faegan realized, that Reznik would have loved more than to add another insult to the wizard's defeat.

In his haste Reznik had been unable to take everything. It was Faegan's guess that he had hidden much of what remained here in this cellar, where he hoped it wouldn't be found. As Faegan examined the grisly treasures of the craft, he was forced to admit that despite how much he hated what had gone on here, the tools and texts of the Valrenkian's various subdisciplines were fascinating. If Faegan and the warriors could escape this place, he had every intention of taking Reznik's possessions back to the Redoubt for further study.

The wizard sighed. This room-nay, this entire village-was a gigantic shop of horrors. He hadn't seen this much evidence of twisted, secret torture since the Sorceresses' War, and he hoped he would never have to again. Worse yet, he had not succeeded in his goal of wiping out the Valrenkians.

He would give anything to know where these abusers of the craft had fled. He knew that there were greater problems in the realm to worry about, but no matter how long it might take, he would personally hunt down the Corporeals and kill them all. Not only because of their crimes against humanity, but also for their crimes against the craft.