The Red wolf conspiracy

The Calm

6 Teala 941

84th day from Etherhorde

"A man it most certainly is," said Isiq, peering through his telescope. "But how did he get there? He has no sail, no mast, even. There are oarlocks, but no oars. How did that boat get so far from land?"

It was a fair question. The Chathrand was six hours south of Ormael now, almost exactly halfway to Simja. Hundreds of men, sweating in the midday sun, gaped at the sight: a forlorn little lifeboat two miles off, with one ragged occupant, seated and barely moving, nagged by shrieking gulls. There was a fighting shield propped in the stern, and some large, lumpy shape beneath a canvas at his feet. They could see no more from this distance.

On the quarterdeck, Captain Rose was speaking to his gunnery officer. Lady Oggosk and Sergeant Drellarek waited at his side.

Isiq and Hercуl stood at the mizzen, with Pazel, Thasha and Neeps beside them. Chadfallow stood a little apart, brooding, wrapped in silence. Pazel had not spoken to him since the doctor shoved him to the deck.

"It is a Volpek lifeboat," said Hercуl. "And that is a Volpek war-shield in the bow, I think. But the man is small for a mercenary. I wish I could see his face."

Thasha took the telescope from her father, and winced a little as she raised it to her eye: Sandor Ott's fist had left a wide purple bruise on her face. The man in the boat had his back to the Chathrand. He was gesturing wildly, as if carrying on an excited debate. His feet rested on a black mound of some sort.

"Those hands of his," she said. "All skin and bones. I've seen them before, I-"

Boom.

Smoke rose from a forward gunport: the Chathrand had fired a signal-shot. The gulls scattered briefly, but the man did not even look over his shoulder.

"He's deaf, or mad," declared Eberzam Isiq.

"May we look through your scope, Your Excellency?" Pazel asked.

Isiq nodded and Thasha handed over the instrument, and the boys passed it back and forth. Then they looked at each other and nodded.

"No doubt about it," said Neeps.

"It's Mr. Druffle," Pazel said.

And so it was. The freebooter was thinner and more ragged than ever, which Pazel would have thought impossible were he not seeing it with his own eyes. His feet were bare and sun-blistered, and his black hair was snarled in dirty knots.

"How the devil did that lunkhead get out here?" Pazel asked.

"Not by chance, I think," said Hercуl.

"What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, Hercуl looked at Chadfallow. The doctor would not meet his eye.

The Chathrand sailed a little nearer. Captain Rose, locked in conversation with Oggosk, stole nervous glances at the lifeboat.

"There is a body beneath his feet," said a sudden voice in Pazel's ear.

Pazel reacted as if stung by a bee, making Thasha turn and stare.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

The voice belonged to an ixchel man. Not Taliktrum, and yet Pazel was certain he had heard the voice before. Whoever he was, he was hiding just a few yards away. He used his natural voice: no one but Pazel heard a thing. "A body," he repeated. "Tell them."

And Pazel did. Once you knew what to look for it was plainly true: Druffle's feet were resting on someone's chest, draped in a black, enveloping cloak. A heavy body, it was, of a rather portly man or woman.

All at once Pazel realized where he had heard the ixchel's voice. In Rose's cabin. It was the voice of the captain's poison-taster.

"Steldak," he whispered.

"Yes, lad. Do not look for me, please."

"What about Dri, and her nephew?"

"Their Lordships never returned, Pazel Pathkendle. The council tried to warn her. It was a mad caprice, to chase a mage into the wilderness. Now the clan has lost all its princes. Their noble brother died to rescue me."

"I know," said Pazel. "She told me."

Motion on the quarterdeck: Rose appeared to have come to a sudden decision. He spoke to Uskins, who was hovering at his elbow. The first mate nodded, then turned and relayed the order:

"Due south! Full sail to Simja!"

A roar of disapproval broke from the crew. Shame, infamy! To abandon a man adrift! Isiq threw down his hat and made for the quarterdeck. Even Pazel, who somehow knew that horrible events would unfold if Druffle boarded, was appalled to think of leaving him here to die.

But there was only one captain of the Chathrand, and now he made his power felt. One nod to Drellarek and the sergeant was barking orders to his men. Eberzam Isiq found the quarterdeck stair blocked by crossed swords. Uskins leaned over the rail and bellowed in the face of Elkstem, who was gaping at the captain.

"Due south, Sailmaster, or is this a hangman's holiday? You want some dying, plague-breathed Ormali brought aboard, along with that wormy corpse under his toes? Full sail to Simja, damn your eyes!"

With a hundred warriors breathing down their necks the sailors quickly obeyed. Elkstem spun the wheel; the port and starboard watches freed the brace-lines, and in seconds men were heaving and groaning to turn the gigantic sails into the wind.

Everyone felt the tug as the ship leaped forward. But only Pazel heard Steldak say, "Ahh, he attends us now."

Pazel looked out at the lifeboat. Druffle was gazing at them over his shoulder.

"We can't just leave!" said Thasha. "Chadfallow said Arunis magicked him. Perhaps Druffle's not a bad man at all!"

"Even if he is, this is wrong," said Pazel. "We're supposed to be better than Arunis."

"We are," said Neeps, glaring up at Rose.

"Something's happening," said another ixchel's voice. "Look at the sails!"

"Look at the sails!" Pazel said aloud.

On all five masts the sails were falling limp. The wind was dropping; the pennants barely fluttered. The Chathrand's pace began to slow.

"Topgallants!" cried Rose, not bothering with Uskins now. "Starboard, lay aloft!"

Sailors raced up the lines like agile monkeys. High overhead, the topgallant sails were loosed and tightened. But the dying wind barely filled them, and the ship grew slower still.

"Spritsails! Moonrakers!" roared the captain. "Run out the blary studders, Mr. Frix! I want every last inch of canvas stretched!"

Studdingsail yards were hauled up from below and lashed to the tips of the spars. Four sailors crawled out past the Goose-Girl to extend the jib. No whispers about shame and infamy now: the vanishing wind was too strange, and the captain's fear too contagious. In minutes, a whole array of new sails had erupted from the ship, and the Chathrand looked like a great white bird spreading its wings in the sun.

For a minute, perhaps two, she gained speed: the sailors drew a nervous breath. Then the weak wind stopped blowing altogether. Thasha saw her father turn in a circle, gaping at the acres of useless sails. Even the waves flattened around them.

Suddenly Pazel noticed Jervik standing just behind them. For an instant their eyes met.

"A dead calm," whispered Jervik. "But so sudden! This ain't natural, is it?"

Pazel said nothing. It was almost more unnatural to hear Jervik address him without hate.

No one moved or spoke. The only sound was the hiss of foam on the motionless sea. And then, from more than a mile away: a laugh. Pazel and Neeps looked at each other again. The voice did not belong to Druffle.

But the freebooter was still the only figure moving. As they watched, he drew a pair of oars from beneath the black canvas. Fitting them into the oarlocks, he began to row toward the ship.

"They will be here in minutes," said Steldak.

"They?" said Pazel.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Can't you guess, Pazel Pathkendle?"

"Gunner!" Rose bellowed. "Get your men to the lower arsenal! Run out the midship battery!"

"Which guns, sir?"

"All the blary guns, man!"

Another scramble ensued, the men's voices strangely loud on the motionless air. Soon, enough guns to sink a warship were trained on the little rowing boat. It was then that one of the lookouts cried that a little dog had just emerged from under Druffle's seat. Pazel looked again, and saw it: a small white dog with a corkscrew tail.

Oh, fire and fumes.

He would know that dog anywhere.

Just then Pazel felt Thasha's hand on his arm. He turned: she held a finger to her lips.

"Meet me in the stateroom," she whispered. "Take the long way around, so nobody suspects. But hurry!" And she turned and made for her cabin.

Pazel knew better than to disobey. Besides, he had an inkling of what she was up to. "Cover for me, mate," he said to Neeps in Sollochi. "I'll be right back."

Neeps couldn't believe his eyes. "You're going below? What for?"

"To get help," said Pazel. With that he ran, ducking behind the crowd of transfixed sailors.

He had almost reached the No. 4 hatch when a cry broke from a hundred mouths. Pazel turned and gasped.

Halfway between the lifeboat and the ship the water was rising. A little vortex was turning, a cone of wind where none had been before. Man-high it rose, and then somewhat higher. Sudden rain dashed down upon it, and waves rose to enter it, and all at once it had arms and a face, and danced ghoulishly on the flattened sea.

"A water-weird!" cried Swellows. "He's called up a water-weird to sink us!"

A sharp command from the lifeboat, and the creature surged toward them. Rose laughed at his bosun's fear.

"Sink us-that little thing? Wash our faces, more likely! Fire!"

Three cannon gave three deafening, ear-wounding roars. Pazel looked: two shots fell wildly long of the boat. The third fell close enough to set it rocking, but no more.

Then the water-weird struck the gunports a sideways blast-and every man aboard realized what it could do. Not sink, but disarm them-for how could cannons fire if every fuse was soaked?

Suddenly Pazel remembered his rendezvous with Thasha. He spun about and rushed for the hatch-and nearly barreled into Jervik, who stood blocking his way.

"Pazel!" said the big tarboy. Still struggling to be friendly-or at least nonhostile.

"What is it?"

Jervik glanced in the direction of the lifeboat. "He's an Ormali same as you, right?"

"Druffle? That's what he told me. Listen, I really have to-"

"Then you can wish away his hex."

"What?"

"His hex. His spell on the wind. It's muketch magic, ain't it?"

Pazel just looked at him. The boy was perfectly serious.

"Jervik," said Pazel carefully, "the man rowing that boat isn't doing the magic. And I don't know any spells, muketch or otherwise."

From the older boy's face it was clear he didn't believe a word. Or didn't wish to. Then, to Pazel's amazement, Jervik slipped the brass Citizenship Ring from his finger and held it up.

"Yours," he said, "if you'll just do as I'm askin'."

"But I don't know any magic."

"Come off it," said Jervik. "All those talks with that mink-mage-thing? That Ramachni fellow? Yeah, I know about 'em!" He looked a little sheepish, suddenly. "There's speaking-tubes all over this ship. You can listen at 'em, too. Swellows made me do it."

I'll bet you volunteered, thought Pazel. But there was no point in denial now "I've learned a few things from Ramachni, that's true. And they might even help us, if you'll just-"

Jervik pawed at him. "Do it now! Wish his spell away!"

"Let me go," said Pazel, his voice hardening. "Before it's too late."

But Jervik was too frightened to hear. His bullying instincts returned with a vengeance: he seized Pazel by the arms and shook him. "Wish it away! You're the only one who can!"

I'm going to have to fight this idiot, thought Pazel. And feeling the immense strength in Jervik's arms he knew he couldn't win.

But suddenly the big tarboy screamed in pain. His leg lashed out, and something small and black struck the open hatch-cover with a thump, then fell senseless through the opening below.

"Bit me!" howled Jervik, releasing Pazel and clutching his ankle. "That damn blary rat!"

Felthrup!

Blood covered Jervik's hands. Pazel threw himself down the ladder, fearing the worst. There lay the short-tailed rat: barely able to raise his head. Was that Jervik's blood alone? Pazel couldn't stop to find out. He scooped up the lame creature and made a dash for Thasha's stateroom. Men stared at him: other boys were running with gunpowder and cannonballs. He was bearing a rat.

Thasha waited in her doorway. "Felthrup!" she cried. "What's happened to you?"

"M'lady-" squeaked the rat.

"Hush!" said Pazel. "Just rest! You're a hero already."

They laid Felthrup on Thasha's pillow. His breathing was shallow, and he blinked as though his eyes could not focus.

"Leave me," he said. "Do what you came to do."

As Pazel tried to make Felthrup more comfortable, Thasha turned to her clock. Around and around she spun the hands. "If he's not in his Observatory, we're done for," she said.

"Just hurry," said Pazel.

When the clock read nine minutes past seven, she stopped. "We have to wait three minutes," she said. "That's just how it works."

They were the longest three minutes Pazel had ever known. Above them, Uskins was shouting, "Fire! Fire!" But not a cannon sounded: the water-weird still lashed at the gunports. Suddenly Thasha gave his hand a fond squeeze. Pazel squeezed back, but as he did so he felt a certain unpleasant tightness in his chest.

When the minute hand moved for a third time, Thasha bent down and whispered: "Ramachni!" The clock sprang open with a snap.

There was a whirl of black fur. Almost before they saw him, Ramachni had bounded onto Thasha's bed. Gently, the mink licked the black rat's forehead. Felthrup gave a whistling sigh.

"He will sleep now," said Ramachni. "But we must make haste."

"You knew we were coming?"

"Oh no, dear girl! But I certainly hoped. Whole days have I waited at my desk. And I have certain tools for doing more than just waiting. Listen carefully, please: neither of you have ever faced a danger like the one trying to board this ship. We must work together or be swept away."

Thasha put her shawl over the clock. "It's Arunis under that canvas, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Can you beat him?" Pazel asked.

"Not in this world, where I am but a shadow of myself," said Ramachni. "But we can beat him. Thasha, you will be called on to show great courage, and great self-control. Pazel, you will have but one chance to speak a Master-Word. As you know, you will forget it the instant you speak, and nevermore hear it in your lifetime. You must choose well."

Pazel looked into Ramachni's bottomless black eyes. A word that tamed fire and a word that made stone of living flesh and a word that blinded to give new sight. The simplest Master-Words of all, the least dangerous. But if he chose wrong, Arunis and the Shaggat would win, and nothing would stop the war.

"Why can't you just tell me which Word to use?" he begged.

"For the simplest of reasons," said Ramachni. "Because I don't know. But remember this, both of you. We are not fighting Arunis and his beast alone. We are fighting an Empire. Sandor Ott is defeated-perhaps. But many hands are yet turning the wheel he set in motion."

At that moment they heard feet running in the outer stateroom. Thasha's door flew open and Hercуl stood there, breathing hard, his sword naked in his hand.

"Ramachni," he said. "The hour is come."

Dollywilliams Druffle stopped his rowing. The little dog wagged its tail. The lifeboat had come within thirty feet of the Chathrand. Beside the motionless behemoth it was little more than a bobbing cork. A hideous smell rose from it, as of sun-rotted meat.

The water-weird still shimmered against the gunports, a moist cloud shaped like a man. Otherwise the sea lay as if dead. No wave nor puff of wind could be felt. High overhead clouds were racing, but they might have belonged to another world. Here nothing moved but the gulls.

"You there, smuggler!" cried Rose suddenly, leaning down from the rail. "Get hence with that corpse! Release this ship! You're in the Straits of Simja, no great distance from either shore. We'll lower you a mast and sailcloth, if you need them. You can sail where you like."

Druffle said nothing. His back was still to the Chathrand.

"Do you think that rain-fairy is going to scare us? By the Pits, I'll see those gulls glut on your entrails before I let you touch my ship!"

He stormed down the ladder and into the wheelhouse. A moment later he emerged with an immense harpoon. Raising the weapon to his shoulder, he closed one eye and rushed the rail with the force of a buffalo. The harpoon sailed straight through the water-weird and right for Druffle's neck. The freebooter never saw it coming.

But at the last second, like a dark flame, a figure leaped up from beneath the cloth, knocking Druffle sideways. For an instant it looked as if the harpoon had pierced them both. Yet there it quivered in the boat's hull, and neither man had been slain.

"It's the soap man!" blurted Uskins.

Looking steadily up at the Chathrand, Arunis slowly pulled his old scarf from about his neck. A small red spot stained the white cloth. He bent and wiped it on the canvas, which still appeared to be covering something rather large, and wound it about his throat once more.

"You're a good shot," he said. "But the day may come, Captain Rose, when you regret lifting your hand against me. Or even against my servant. Not that Mr. Druffle is particularly vital to my purposes. He was, of course-when I needed divers, he was so important that I gave him the same power over others that I have over him. You enjoyed that, didn't you, Druffle?"

Druffle gave a puppet's nod.

"But that time is past. Drop a ladder, why don't you, and let us board. We are thirsty."

"Never," said Rose.

"I shall board one way or another, you know."

Sergeant Drellarek lowered his sword to point down at the boat. "Hear me, mage or mystic, or whoever you are," he shouted. "We are on a mission consecrated by His Supremacy, Magad the Fifth. You have nothing to do with that mission, and may not interfere."

"Such discourtesy, Sergeant," said the sorcerer. "And here I stand ready to assist your cause to a degree you can scarce imagine."

"This ship is the grave of sorcerers," said Lady Oggosk suddenly. "All die who seek to use her for their wickedness. It will curse you too, Arunis. Go back!"

Arunis smiled. "The Great Ship curses those who are not great. It was built for the likes of us. But why should we argue? Our mission is the same: to return the Shaggat Ness to his worshippers on Gurishal. To urge him to war. To see the Mzithrin Kings hurled from their thrones and their power ended in this world. And I have done much for you already, Captain Rose. Each morning, as timid Mr. Ket, I wove the spell that bound the Shaggat to silence. I dare say you've missed that service since I left the Chathrand. And who made sure Sandor Ott caught up with your favorite witch, Captain, and persuaded her to sail with you once more? For that matter, who told Ott where you were hiding? You'd have missed out on the greatest command of your life without my help. I ask you again, Captain: will you let us board?"

"We will not let you."

Hundreds of men jumped at the unfamiliar voice. There stood Hercуl, with a strange animal perched on his shoulder. It was a mink, black as midnight, white teeth bared. On Hercуl's left stood Pazel, looking sick with worry; and on the man's right Lady Thasha Isiq held a sword in a manner that suggested she knew how to use it. Beside her stood her enormous dogs, Jorl and Suzyt, their eyes fixed on Arunis and low growls rumbling in their throats.

But it was the mink who was speaking. "We will not let you," it said again, "for yours is a mission of death. And your wisdom fades, Arunis, if you doubt the curse in store for you aboard the Great Ship."

For the first time, and merely for an instant, Arunis looked uncertain. Then he spread his arms and laughed.

"Ramachni Fremken! Rat-wizard of the Sunken Kingdom! Have you come all this way to fight me? Go back to your world, little trickster, and be spared! Alifros is mine!"

Ramachni answered with a soft, single word: "Hegnos."

And Druffle was transformed. He leaped to his feet and drew a cavernous breath, like a man pulled from the depths of the sea. Then his eyes found Arunis and swelled with hate. His hand flashed to his cutlass.

And there it stayed. Arunis raised his own hand and Druffle froze, rigid as ice, the blade half drawn from its sheath.

"Yes," said Ramachni, "I have freed his mind from your charms. And Mr. Druffle has nursed his hatred of you through months of magical slavery. He will plunge that blade into your heart the moment you tire of that holding spell."

Arunis shrugged. "Why should I tire?" And with one hand he pushed Druffle overboard.

In the unnatural stillness Druffle fell like a log. But he did not float like one, although by strange good fortune his face was the last part of him submerged. Men shouted: "Save him! Dive, somebody!" But not a sailor moved.

Hercуl thrust Ramachni into Thasha's hands and leaped to the rail. But someone beat him to the jump. Neeps was over the side, dropping first onto a cannon jutting from its gunport, then dangling from its stock. He was still over forty feet above the tabletop-flat sea when he let go. Pazel thought he had never looked so small.

He struck the water some twenty feet from Druffle, vanished for a terrible moment, then surfaced again, swimming toward the motionless smuggler. Pazel gasped with relief. Soon Neeps' arm was around Druffle's neck. Fiffengurt tossed a life preserver, and put four men on the line to haul them aboard.

Arunis did not waste a glance on Neeps or Druffle. He pulled at one oar, turning the lifeboat in a circle until the stern with the Volpek war-shield faced the Chathrand. Then he leaned over the black cloth, and with a sharp tug pulled it aside. The men of the Chathrand gasped. Not a few turned away in revulsion.

The boat was half full of body parts. Feet, fingers, whole hands. Gore-covered ribs, bloated heads. The gulls screamed: clearly this was what had drawn them, and created the terrible stench.

"Those are Volpek faces," whispered Thasha.

The dead flesh lay piled on a second cloth, spread on the floor of the boat. Arunis bent low over the stinking mass, mumbling to himself. Then he drew up the four corners of the cloth and tied them together, like some hideous picnic bundle.

"Take them!" he shrieked.

The water-weird rose, spinning like a miniature cyclone, and lifted the mass. For a moment the weight appeared too much for the creature-it was only wind and rain, after all-but then it gathered itself and gave a mighty heave. The bundle spun upward along the Chathrand's flank. Men ducked; the bundle just cleared the rail, and with a last rush of speed burst horribly against the mainmast.

Scraps of dead men fell all about them. Pazel had never dreamed of a sight so foul. But what would it accomplish? The crew was disgusted, nothing more.

Ramachni knew, though. "Into the sea! Into the sea!" he cried. "Toss it all overboard, quickly, instantly!"

Leaping to the deck, he bit into a severed hand, and with a snap of his body flung it over the rail. Hercуl joined in at once. Thasha and the tarboys, revolted as they were, did the same. But the sailors hesitated. Were they taking orders from a weasel now?

"Do as he says, f'Rin's sake!" howled Fiffengurt, diving into the gory task. A few men followed his lead. But the Volpeks' remains were everywhere-snagged in the rigging, dangling from block and chain and cleat, kicked under tarps and equipment.

Sea-rotted flesh is ugly, but what came next was loathsome beyond words. The heads and limbs and digits began to grow, and melt, and squirm with life. Men dropped what they held, screaming. Body parts flopped about the deck like fish. Then all at once they were men. Not normal men, but full-sized Volpek corpses, bloodless and pale.

"Fleshancs!" cried Lady Oggosk. "He's turned his own dead warriors into fleshancs! Ay Midrala, we're doomed!"

The first monster to gain its feet rose just in front of Mr. Swellows. The bosun did not even try to run. He looked truly petrified with fear, and the fleshanc reached out rather slowly and crushed his throat with one hand. In ghastly silence, white shapes tumbled one after another from Swellows' open shirt, to bounce like walnuts on the deck: ixchel skulls, slipping from his broken necklace.

When Swellows' lifeless body followed with a thump, four hundred sailors fled for their lives. How many fleshancs there were none could say-perhaps thirty, perhaps twice that number-but the fear they produced was overwhelming. Sailors leaped for hatches; one threw himself into the waves. Even Drellarek's warriors looked terrified.

"Stand and fight!" bellowed Rose, hefting a boarding axe. But most of his officers had already fled, and more fleshancs had sprung to life in the rigging and were climbing down. Uskins ran to the back of the quarterdeck and crouched behind the flag locker, as if he hoped no one would notice him there. Fiffengurt stood his ground, but one swing of a Volpek fist sent him sprawling.

Then Hercуl and Drellarek charged. The battle was joined in earnest, and the two warriors fought side by side, thrusting and hacking with all their might. A number of Drellarek's men rallied at his call, and some of the fiercest sailors with them. But the fleshancs were incredibly strong. A blow from their hand was like the cuff of a bear, and their grip could shatter bone and iron.

Far below in the lifeboat, Arunis stood perfectly still.

Pazel and Admiral Isiq were hauling desperately at the lifeline; the men assigned to it had let Neeps and Druffle plunge back into the sea. Chadfallow drew off the fleshancs nearest them, laying at the creatures with a heavy chain. Ramachni seemed to be everywhere at once. With mink speed he leaped from rail to rigging to monster's face, tearing out their eyes with his little claws. And when other fleshancs closed for the kill on a fallen man, Ramachni gave an earsplitting cry and gestured with one paw, and the monster flew across the deck as if struck by a cannonball. But after each such spell Ramachni looked weaker, and soon he was gasping for breath.

A few feet from Pazel, Thasha was fighting as never before. Soldiers were down, sailors down: even as she looked another was stomped lifeless beneath a fleshanc's heel. It was clear the monsters felt no pain whatsoever, and they did not bleed. You could stab them and accomplish nothing. You could even (as she managed with one particularly lucky swing) cut off an arm, and still the fleshanc would not stop. It merely seized its severed limb and used it like a club.

Her dogs fared better than she. Old they were, but battle had restored the berserk vigor of their youth. Slavering, they leaped and battered and ripped at the fleshancs, dismembering any hand that sought them. But Thasha knew their strength could not last.

The victims mounted. Those still fighting stumbled over the corpses of their friends. She saw Ramachni falter in a leap, his forepaws slippery with blood.

On her right a man gave a hideous scream: a fleshanc was crushing him against the sharp edge of a provisions crate. Leaving her own foe, Thasha hurled herself against the creature. The sailor lurched away, but Thasha fell, and the fleshanc landed atop her.

She was pinned, unable to strike. The monster put a hand on her jaw, and the reek of death was overpowering. With unspeakable disgust she recognized the face of the last Volpek she had seen on the barge, slain by Hercуl before her eyes. It was about to have its revenge.

But at that instant the fleshanc fell limp. Its torpor lasted no more than two seconds, but Thasha did not hesitate: she threw the creature off and was safely away before it climbed to its feet.

Her eyes swept the deck: several other fleshancs had paused or stumbled; for a brief moment the humans had the advantage. What had happened? She looked wildly about, but no clue met her eyes. At last she ran to the rail and gazed down on Arunis.

The sorcerer was motionless, as before. But now he was sprawled on hands and knees, and glaring vaguely at his dog, as if only half aware of what he was looking at. The little creature was leaping about in excitement. It had knocked him over.

Then hope swelled in Thasha's chest, and she ran to the quarterdeck ladder. Captain Rose stood atop it, swinging his axe constantly, keeping the monsters single-handedly from gaining the deck.

"Captain! I think I know how to beat them!"

He gave her a livid glance. "Get below, you little fool!"

"Arunis is controlling their every move!"

"Rubbish! He can't even see them!"

"He doesn't need to-he sees them in his mind!"

Rose was barely listening. Thasha cursed, then turned and struggled up the mizzen ratline. When she was high enough she leaped down onto the quarterdeck and rushed to the captain's side.

"I'll hold them off! Just have a look at his face, will you?"

With that she pushed in front of the captain and slashed the nearest fleshanc almost in two. Rose lumbered toward the starboard rail.

Thirty seconds later he was back at her side. With a bellow he kicked two fleshancs backward onto the main deck. Then he gave the ladder three swift cuts with his axe and severed it from the ship. He lifted it one-handed and tossed it behind him. Then he seized Thasha by the arm.

"Can ye climb?"

"Of course!"

The next thing she knew he was lifting her bodily and hurling her back at the mizzenmast rigging. Thasha cried out, caught hold of a shroud and turned to ask what he thought he was doing. But she held her tongue. The huge old man was making the same leap himself, axe in hand. With a grunt of pain he landed in the ratlines beside her.

"Up! Follow!" he snarled, and together they climbed.

The mast was deserted. "I could give the order," he said, "but there's no more blary time! He'll have my boat in minutes, the flamin' bastard! Climb!"

Sweating and swearing, he led her to the mizzen-top, some forty feet above the deck. But they did not stop there. Through the bolt-hole they squeezed and up again. Up and up, straight at the sun, until at eighty feet they reached the mizzen topgallant yard, the massive timber to which the rearmost mainsail of the Chathrand was joined.

"Don't you dare look down until I say so, girl!"

Out along the footropes the captain struggled, his face so red and angry she thought it would burst. She followed, hands shaking, groping along the yard like a worm. They were headed for its outermost tip.

Or what would have been the tip, without the studdingsails. Trying to catch the last breath of wind, Rose had ordered the rigging-out of a second yard, another twenty feet of timber to which a sail could be bent. It had all been in vain, but the yard and sail were still there. Rose hefted his axe.

"The chaps first, cut 'em loose! The yard has to fall free!"

She didn't understand; she didn't know what to cut, or how to do so without plummeting to her death. She was dizzy. Rose bellowed at her. But when he pointed at specific ropes she managed to saw at them, while he chopped farther out. At last the sail slid away.

Then Rose tossed his axe into the sea. He pointed at a pair of steel clamps. "Eye bolts, top and bottom!" he shouted. "Get 'em loose!"

This was easier. She had her clamp loose faster than he managed his. And then she looked down, and knew in an instant what Rose was thinking.

The studdingsail yard jutted past the Chathrand's rail. It reached, in fact, to within ten feet of the lifeboat.

"She's ready," said Rose. "But we have to help her, lass. Put that arm over the topgallant, so. Now crouch down and catch your own hand beneath." He demonstrated, and when Thasha obeyed he stripped away the second clamp.

The twenty-foot beam was loose now, resting atop the permanent spar with nothing keeping it from falling but its own great weight and the force of their arms.

"On three we slide her. Straight, straight! Like my harpoon, girl. You follow?"

She nodded. "I follow. Let's get him."

Rose counted. The spars were smooth-sanded. The tar coating them almost bubbled in the heat. When he said "Three!" she pushed with all her might, and Rose did the same. The spar shot forward off the end of the topgallant.

Down it pinwheeled, end over end. On deck the men fighting for their lives never saw its approach. Nor did Arunis. Only the little dog caught sight of the wooden missile. It gave a frightened Yip! and dashed to the boat's far end.

The yard nearly missed its mark. Half of it vanished into the sea. But the other half broke across the lifeboat's bow, standing the little craft on its nose and hurling Arunis bodily into the water.

"Now look at the deck," said Rose. "By the Gods' guts, you're a smart one."

The fleshancs had collapsed.

Ragged cheers went up from seaman and soldier alike. But their relief was short-lived.

Ramachni, running squirrel-like up the mainmast, looked down at the water and cried out: "He is coming! Throw them over the side! Obey me now or welcome death!"

This time not a man hesitated. They dragged, heaved and hurled the Volpek bodies over the opposite side, where they sank like bags of sand.

Rose and Thasha groped their way down the rigging, exhausted. Thasha looked for Arunis. He had righted the lifeboat already, and pushed his dog aboard. But the bow of the craft was ruined, and unnaturally low in the water.

The water-weird gave a last, snake-like twist and melted into the sea.

The captain and Thasha were cheered anew when they reached the deck. But Rose waved sharply for silence and pushed to the rail.

Arunis lay in the bottom of his boat, which was clearly taking on water. His breath was labored and his face downcast. Suddenly he looked quite old.

"He is drained," whispered Ramachni. "To stir the dead requires immense power. He cannot have much left."

"Will you desist?" cried Rose.

The mage raised his head. "Oh no. You will drop a ladder, and I shall board, and then we shall bring out the Red Wolf. That is what will happen next."

"You're a madman," snarled Rose.

Arunis sat up at once. "Have you written to your parents lately, Rose? I should love to have a talk with you about those extraordinary letters, sent every week to people you know to be dead."

Rose took a halting step backward. His mouth went slack and one hand groped behind him, as if searching for some wall to lean against. When he spoke, his voice was so thin it might have belonged to another man.

"They talk to me at night," he said.

"And you call me mad!" Arunis laughed, getting to his feet. "They are dead! Your mother's deathsmoke habit killed her twenty years ago. Once, true, she nearly gave up the drug, through the simple use of golden swamp tears-"

"No!" screamed Rose at the top of lungs.

"— but you couldn't be bothered to find her a regular supply, and she went back to deathsmoke."

"Kill him!"

"Your father, of course, never forgave you. Without a wife-or a son he could call by that name-he had nothing to live for. He drowned himself. It's all written down in the Annals of the Quezan Islands. But what will be written about you, I wonder, Rose? The once-great skipper who finished his days in a madhouse, chattering with ghosts-"

"Leave him alone, you gloating pig!" Thasha shouted. The thought of anyone, even Rose, tormented with memories of the dead was more than she could stand.

Arunis was delighted to turn his attention to Thasha. "For your sake, Lady, I will do so. After all, I owe you so much. Your marriage will give the Shaggat's worshippers the sign they are waiting for. And you are also, right now, going to make it possible for me to come aboard."

Before Thasha could reply something terrible occurred: her mother's silver necklace came to life and began to strangle her. Those nearest saw the metal move like a snake, gather itself tight around her neck and squeeze. Pazel and Neeps caught her as she fell. They clawed at the necklace but found it strong as steel.

Thasha kicked and thrashed: she could not even scream.

"He's killing her!" Pazel cried.

Isiq waved madly at Drellarek's archers. "Shoot him! Shoot him dead! I command you!"

The archers looked at Drellarek, who nodded. They rushed forward, arrows to strings.

But Ramachni cried, "No!"

"Hear the rat-mage!" said Arunis. "If I die the necklace will go on choking her, to her death and a day beyond. All my enemies die thus, as your Emperor once condemned me to perish in a noose. And if Thasha or anyone else tries to remove the necklace, she will die. As she will now, old man, if you do not see that a ladder is dropped at once."

Thasha's face had turned a hideous purple. Her eyes were glazed. Pazel saw Neeps looking at him beseechingly, almost in tears. Was this the moment? What Master-Word would save her? He looked up at Ramachni, perched again on Hercуl's shoulder. You will have but one chance.

A sudden splash: all eyes turned forward. There stood Chadfallow, his face twisted in fury or despair. He had just rolled the boarding ladder down the Chathrand's flank.

Instantly Arunis turned his craft toward the ladder. At the same time, Thasha made a ghastly sound. She was breathing! Pazel tugged at the necklace: still savagely tight. It had loosened just enough to keep her alive.

Beneath the pain on her face was a terrible rage. Voiceless, her lips formed a name: Syrarys.

Arunis climbed with surprising quickness, holding his dog in one arm. No one moved to stop him. He reached the deck, swung over the rail and let the dog leap down. Smiling, he put out a hand to Chadfallow. But the doctor stepped back, out of reach.

"You do not care for my friendship?" Arunis chuckled. "No matter; it is your wisdom I count on, not your love. And you have chosen wisely, Doctor. Lady Thasha deserves to live."

"Sorcerer!"

The voice erupted from deep in the ship: a frightful, murderous voice.

Arunis' face took on a strange look of rapture. "My lord!" he cried. "Across world and void I come to thee! Through death's gate, by roads of darkness, wastes of years, I return!"

"Give it to me! Bring it forth now!"

Arunis made no reply. Instead, while the Shaggat went on howling demands, he walked calmly aft. Hundreds of men fell back at his approach, until at last he reached the little group surrounding Thasha.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" he said with a sneer.

Rose was deaf to his mockery. He stood apart, hands covering his eyes, trembling.

"I will take your silence for assent. Now hear me, all of you: Chathrand has a new master, and his name is Arunis. You thought to cancel this marriage, Isiq. That will never be. Your daughter will marry a Mzithrini, or die in torment before your eyes. And when she is wed this ship will sail for the Ruling Sea, and its rendezvous with war. Nothing can stop this from happening! If you do not trust me, trust Dr. Chadfallow."

"Trust him? Never again!" said Isiq. "I would sooner trust a crawly!"

"You are insulted, Doctor!" Arunis laughed. "But there is no time to waste. Go to the Shaggat Ness; unchain him and his sons. You will find the key on that idiot by the wheelhouse." He gestured contemptuously at Uskins. Then, barely pausing, he turned to Fiffengurt.

"In the doctor's cabin sits a crate. Bring it up. And have the blacksmith's forge hoisted to the deck as well, and a good fire built."

"What if I don't?" said Fiffengurt.

Arunis raised an eyebrow. Fiffengurt was shaking with fear. But still he managed to raise his voice defiantly, addressing the whole crew: "What if we don't, men? What if we swear to kill this cur and his Shaggat, even if he takes fifty of us with 'im, eh?"

The bravest men began to cheer, but Arunis shouted over them: "In that case I will kill Lady Thasha-and the Emperor will kill you all. Do you mean that no one has explained? Captain Rose?"

Rose said nothing. His back was bent, and his gaze far away.

"Well then, Sergeant Drellarek? Isn't it time you admitted what His Supremacy expects of his Turachs?"

Drellarek hesitated. Six hundred pairs of eyes were on him. "We are to keep the Shaggat alive," he said at last.

"And should any harm befall him?"

"We shall all be killed, with our families, upon return to Ether-horde. But we do not serve you, filth-mage."

"Nor do I seek your service, dog! Only recall your oath to the crown. Let no one approach His Holiness the Shaggat during the ceremony to come." He raised his voice to a shout. "You think you defeated Sandor Ott? His plan marches on! Should the Shaggat die, everyone aboard this ship will follow fast."

"But Ott thought you were dead!" said Uskins, peeping down from the quarterdeck. "You were never part of his plan!"

"That is true," said Arunis. "But I improved it-perfected it. None here can stand against me now."

Thasha, her voice a wounded rasp, said, "Ramachni can."

Arunis laughed once more. "Such faith the girl has in you, Ramachni! But I know you better. You have done too much in this world already-a healing charm I smell about you, to say nothing of your foolish freeing of Mr. Druffle. Any power left to you after that was wasted on the fleshancs. That is why I bothered with them, of course."

He stepped toward Ramachni, arms flung wide. "You, oppose me? Do it now, weasel! Save your friends!"

There it was, once more-that hint of fear in his voice. Yet Ramachni, claws tight on Hercуl's shoulder, bowed his head and said nothing.

"I knew it!" said Arunis. "There's no power left in him! Stay and watch my triumph, wizard: your helplessness will make it all the sweeter. You boys!"

He pointed suddenly at Neeps and Pazel, who froze like startled deer. He's got us, Pazel thought. Oh Rin! Which Master-Word?

But Arunis showed no sign of recognizing his former captives. "Draw a circle on the deck," he commanded. "Only I, the Shaggat and those I name may enter it during the ceremony. Sergeant Drellarek, your men will kill all others on the spot."

At noon precisely "the ceremony" began.

The first-class passengers, still locked behind the Money Gate, were the first to hear the great slouching, stomping footfalls. They drew back in horror: the augrongs, Refeg and Rer, were lumbering by, turning their fist-sized yellow eyes on the speechless humans in their finery. They had only budged from their den in the forward hold to help occasionally with anchor-lifting. Now they were squeezing up the main ladderway to the topdeck, where Arunis beckoned impatiently. When they stood at last in the sun they shuffled behind him, docile as hounds.

Below, a woman screamed. While their eyes had been on the augrongs another figure had lumbered down the passage, escorted by a dozen marines. The Shaggat Ness moved like some slow, thick-bodied carnivore. His scarred face twitched like a victim of palsy, and his clouded red eyes looked at them with such hate that even those who had not quailed at the augrongs fell back in terror. Pacu Lapadolma made the sign of the Tree. Walking behind him, the Shaggat's yellow-robed sons saw her gesture and began to mutter of executions.

By Arunis' decree, the entire crew was gathered on deck. Officers and tarboys, sailors and Turach warriors stood side by side, helpless. When the Shaggat stepped out into the light they stumbled backward, like a mob of children who had woken a bear.

Arunis knelt and touched his forehead to the deck. "Master," he said. "After forty years among knaves and enemies we meet triumphant."

"Where is it?" said the Shaggat.

Arunis gestured with one hand. On the deck before the mainmast was an ash circle twenty feet across. At its center sat the forge-a mighty oven used to mend breastplates and anchors and other huge things of iron. Heaps of coal surrounded it. Six men worked the bellows that pumped air through its heart of fire. Before its open mouth the heat was so intense no one could stand it for more than a second or two.

The Shaggat stamped his foot. "There it is! Mine! Mine!"

Inside the forge, as if wading in the red-hot coals, stood the Red Wolf. A more fiendish-looking animal could scarcely be imagined. Its ruby eyes seemed fire themselves. The barnacles on its chest were exploding with heat; the lichen was in flames. It stood in a great steel crucible in the very hottest part of the fire. Already the Wolf's legs had begun to glow.

"The hour is come," said Arunis to the Shaggat. "Once you take up that which I promised you half a century ago, no horde or legion will be able to resist. And I shall walk behind you, Master of All Men-helping, teaching, guiding your hand."

Arunis cast his gaze over the crowd. "Do you see it at last, you conspirators? Ott's secret weapon will be more powerful than even he dared dream! We will not merely hurt the Mzithrini, we will crush them. And then we will crush Arqual. League by league we will burn both empires off the map."

"You'll need more than a Sizzy-made Wolf," said Oggosk with contempt. "A relic of the Dawn War, that's what you'll need. Find the Nilstone for your puppet-king, Arunis, if you want to rule the world."

"Puppet?" cried the Shaggat's sons. "Hang her! Hang her!"

"Soon I shall have no need of hangmen," said the Shaggat Ness.

The orange glow had spread to the Wolf's stomach. Its lower legs began to soften and bend.

Arunis turned to Lady Oggosk. "You are right, Duchess. Only one weapon will do for the next Lord of Alifros. Watch now and despair."

Pazel blinked the sweat from his eyes. The Shaggat was only an arm's length away. If he touched him and spoke the Stone-Word it would all be over-and Arunis would kill Thasha in a heartbeat.

All around them, men were murmuring prayers. "Save us, stop him, let me live to see my wife." Pazel looked at Ramachni. Must I do it? he thought. Must I let him kill her to stop the war? Ramachni's face told him nothing.

Then Thasha caught his eye-the same direct, dazzling look she had given him from the carriage in Etherhorde so many weeks before, but sorrowful now instead of glad. It was a look of understanding, an acceptance beyond all fear.

She was giving him permission.

Pazel looked down quickly. Let there be some other way. Any other way.

Coal flew spade after spade into the forge, to the ceaseless huffing of the bellows. The Wolf now glowed from head to tail. If Pazel spoke the Fire-Word he might make the flame go out, and delay whatever evil thing Arunis was up to. But the mage would simply light another fire, and the Word would be gone. And if what Arunis said was true it would mean Thasha's death to use the Stone-Word against him. The cursed necklace would strangle her the instant Arunis died.

Panic seized him. He was alone-surrounded by every friend he had in the world, and still utterly alone. It was up to Pazel to stop this horror, and he had no idea what to do.

But what was this? Ormali! Someone was speaking Ormali-and although it was chanted like a prayer, the words were for him.

"Look at me! At me, my Chereste heart!"

It was Druffle. There he stood at the back of the crowd: starved, bruised and shaky. But when he looked at Pazel, the freebooter's eyes lit up with rascally mischief. Druffle's gaze slid upward-and carefully, one eye still on Arunis, Pazel looked as well.

For a moment he saw nothing but the familiar jungle of ropes and spars. Then he saw him: Taliktrum. He was hidden in the mouth of a block-pulley, ten feet overhead.

"Look away from me!" he shouted.

He used the normal voice of ixchel, the voice Pazel alone could hear. Pazel obeyed at once.

"Can you stop him?" Taliktrum went on. "Answer in Nileskchet."

"I could if I could touch him," Pazel said aloud. "But I dare not."

"No," he agreed. "You dare not. But stay close to him, boy. We are not beaten yet."

"He'll murder Thasha!" Pazel cried. "And they'll kill me if I step inside that circle. How do you expect me to stay close?"

But Taliktrum made no answer, and when Pazel risked another glance at the mainsail, he was gone.

The nearest sailors were looking at him with fear and rage: the bad-luck tarboy, speaking in witch-tongues again. But Druffle sidled up to him and clasped his arm.

"He saved me," he said wonderingly, as if he still could not believe it. "I had a Tholjassan arrowhead six inches deep in my back. He put his arm in the wound and tugged it out. A crawly. A crawly saved my life."

A sigh came from the crowd: the Wolf's legs had given way and its body now lay in a pool of molten iron, half filling the crucible.

"Taliktrum," Pazel whispered. "You brought him back."

Druffle nodded. "And his sister, under my clothes."

"Diadrelu!"

"Aye, Her Ladyship. After Arunis pushed me out of that little boat, they held my head above water until your friend arrived. They're the finest folk I ever met."

"Where is she?"

But Druffle made no answer. Thasha and Neeps drew near. Thasha's eyes were moist. She looked as though she was taking leave of everything.

"Pazel," said Neeps, "Arunis is destroying the Wolf!"

"Yes," said Pazel, still watching Druffle's face.

"What for? He nearly got us killed looking for the thing!"

"It's not the Wolf he wants," rasped Thasha.

The boys looked at her, speechless.

"I've been reading the Polylex," she whispered. "To the Sizzies, wolves aren't evil. They're symbols of wisdom and strength. They cooperate, protect one another, care for the pack. In Mzithrini legends wolves warn people of danger. Don't you see? This Wolf isn't a weapon-it's a hiding place for one. Arunis wants whatever's inside."

"Thasha," said Pazel, "I'm not going to let him kill you."

To Pazel's astonishment, she hugged him tight. He tried to pull away-Arunis might punish her for anything-but she was stronger, and would not let go. Then all at once he felt movement against his chest. After Taliktrum's angry warning he knew better than to look down, but out of the corner of his eye he saw, and understood. Diadrelu was climbing from Thasha's shirt into his own.

"Hug her back, fool!" said the ixchel woman. "The mage is watching."

Pazel hugged her. But Dri wasn't satisfied. "By the Pits, Arunis is staring at you! Thasha, you went to the Lorg School! Can't you feign affection?"

"Feign?" said Pazel.

"Who's talking?" said Neeps.

Thasha kissed Pazel on the mouth.

Nothing he had ever felt was half so awkward or fascinating. But it lasted only an instant. Then came pain-a sudden, searing pain at his collarbone. Pazel gasped. His first thought was that Dri had stabbed him. But she was nowhere near the spot. No, it was Klyst: her magic shell was blazing beneath his skin, scalding him with murth-girl jealousy. He jerked his head away.

"Stop it!" he said.

Thasha dropped her arms. But now she was blazing, too. "As if it was my idea!" she snapped.

The pain stopped. Behind them, Arunis cackled. "Of course it wasn't!" he said. "It was your tutors'-or your father's, perhaps. Give her a tarry sweetheart-and one of the backward races, at that. Let her disgrace herself. Perhaps the Sizzies won't let one of their princes marry a tramp."

"Seal your lips, snake!" shouted Eberzam Isiq.

"Better to command your daughter thus," laughed Arunis. "But it will make no difference. She marries tomorrow."

"Thasha-" Pazel stammered.

She turned to him.

But then Dri spoke for his ears alone. "Forget her, if you would save her. Get closer to the mage."

"Never mind," he said. Thasha gave him a look of perfect exasperation.

Pazel squeezed through the crowd to the circle's edge, with Neeps just behind him. Inside the forge, the Wolf's body was so hot it quivered like a pudding. Its ruby eyes glowed brighter than ever.

"If you kill the mage, the voyage will go on," whispered Dri. "Rose and Drellarek will see to that."

"I know!" said Pazel.

"Pazel, who-" Neeps began.

"Don't talk to me!"

Pazel covered his ears. He was going mad. Think, think, think! Neeps fell silent, and for a time, so did everyone else. All eyes were on the Wolf, the mage, the twitching hands of the Shaggat. The heat was staggering. Then a howl tore the air-a wolf's howl, enormous and urgent-as the whole creature turned to liquid before their eyes. The howl raced down the length of the Chathrand, stirring the limp sails, and vanished with a last whine over the bows.

But in the pool of bubbling metal one object remained. It was a crystal sphere about the size of a melon. The sphere glistened in the firelight-but at its heart was something impenetrably black.

Dri hissed in her throat. "Oh no, no. Rin forbid."

"There it is!" cried Arunis. "Take it out! Cool it with seawater! Findre ble sondortha, Rer!"

Dutifully Rer put his tongs into the forge and removed the sphere. Great clouds of steam rose when he plunged it into a waiting bucket. The steam drenched them all: from a distance men would have thought the Chathrand ablaze. Finally it subsided, and Rer lifted the sphere again and placed it in the center of the anvil. It sparkled in the sun, but the core was darker than ever. Thasha had a sudden feeling that she had seen it before.

"Now, Refeg," said Arunis.

Refeg set the tip of his chisel on the sphere.

"Arunis!" said Hercуl suddenly. "Do not commit this atrocity! It will destroy you as well!"

"Break the sphere," said Arunis.

Refeg lifted his stone mallet, but before he could swing another voice thundered: "No!"

It was Captain Rose. He was on his feet and barreling toward the ash circle, as savagely excited as he had been numb moments before. "Don't break it! Chabak! Chabak, Refeg, you fool! Get it away from the fire!"

"Stop, Captain!" shouted Drellarek.

Rose did not stop. At his first step within the circle the Turachs raised their swords. But Drellarek intercepted Rose before they could pounce. He dealt Rose a blow to the head that could be heard ten yards away. Rose's body stiffened, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

"My apologies, sir," said Drellarek.

Rose staggered a last step-and fell against the mouth of the forge. There was an awful sizzling noise and a stench of burning flesh. Drellarek seized him by the shirt and pulled him backward-but not before Rose's shoulder knocked the crucible to the deck.

Screams of fear and agony. Like quicksilver, the Wolf's molten iron flashed across the deck. Everywhere, men leaped for rails and rigging-they worked barefoot, after all. The boots of the Turach soldiers burst one after another into flame; Drellarek screamed at them to hold their ground. Mr. Fiffengurt, weeping for his ship, kicked over the cask of seawater, which vaporized instantly on contact with the iron and scalded men worse than the metal itself.

Through all the chaos Arunis kept perfectly still, gripping the Shaggat's arm.

The cloud of steam lifted. Slags of iron bubbled on the deck, and Fiffengurt gave orders for them to be scooped and tossed overboard. Dr. Chadfallow ran from sailor to sailor, shouting, "Don't walk on your burns, man!"

Climbing down from a forestay, Pazel winced. In the frenzy a sailor had knocked him over, and his left palm had come down on a coin-sized splash of iron. With a cry he had torn it off-along with a patch of burned skin. In fact he had been lucky-the scalding steam had passed over his head-but what agony in his hand! The spot on his palm felt like hard leather, and somehow he knew it always would.

At the forge, Arunis had redrawn the circle and Drellarek's men ringed it as before. Rose lay groaning against the starboard rail, letting Oggosk wrap his burned arm in gauze. The crystal sphere had not moved from its place on the anvil. The sorcerer gestured again to Refeg.

"Break it, now."

But the augrong had flung its mallet halfway to the bow. Arunis pointed at a trembling Jervik and ordered him to fetch it. While they waited, Thasha studied the sphere. Why was it so familiar?

Then she had it: the Polylex, again. She had seen a drawing of just such a sphere, being rolled into a cannon's mouth.

"Oh skies," she whispered. "It's one of those!"

She was on the point of shouting-they were in immediate and terrible danger-when a hand closed on her shoulder, and a voice hissed: "Shhhh."

It was the veterinarian, Bolutu. "You're right of course, Bride-to-Be," he whispered (and his accent was very different from his normal voice-and somehow more true). "Rose guessed it also. But you must not interfere. How else will the sorcerer be defeated?"

"But we can't… all these people!"

Jervik had retrieved the mallet. The augrong took it and stepped up to the sphere once more.

"All these people are not a drop beside the sea of deaths he has in mind, Lady. You know I speak the truth. Let the dragon's-egg shot burst, even though we sink. Only then will Arunis-"

"Yip! Yip! Yip! Yip!"

Out of nowhere, snapping at Bolutu's heels, was the small, furious white dog. Arunis raised his hand, and Refeg paused.

"You. Black man!"

The sorcerer's arm shot out. He crooked a finger, and Bolutu stiffened and stumbled forward.

"You're keeping a secret from me," said Arunis, with a perfectly hideous smile. "Oh, there's no need to speak. You're thinking about it, that will do… Ah!"

His eyes grew wide with fury. He waved sharply and Bolutu fell to his knees with a cry.

"A dragon's-egg shot! So you would let me shatter it here, where its deadly yolk would splash into the flames and explode? You knew, and said nothing? Well, since you are so fond of silence-"

What happened next gave Thasha nightmares for the rest of her life. Arunis spread his fingers. Bolutu's head jerked up, his mouth wide open. With his other hand Arunis pointed at the fire-and a coal rose and flew like a wasp of flame into Bolutu's mouth.

Bolutu gave a rending scream, then fell forward, unconscious. Beside her, Thasha saw that Ramachni too had crumpled, shivering in Hercуl's arms.

The Shaggat Ness stepped forward and kicked Bolutu in the head. He toppled backward out of the circle. Dr. Chadfallow leaped forward and dragged him away.

Arunis watched the shivering Ramachni. "You put out the coal, Ramachni?" He laughed. "A final gasp of magical mercy? Why am I not surprised? As you will-Bolutu may live, but he will never speak again. Fiffengurt! Close the forge, let the fire die. You, Rer: drag it away."

A chain was found; Rer looped it around the iron forge and hauled the smoldering thing up the deck. Arunis watched, then gestured again at Refeg.

"Now," he said.

The augrong raised his mallet and dealt the sphere a crushing blow. The very deck of the Chathrand seemed to quake, but the crystal survived. Three times Refeg swung, and on the third blow the crystal shattered. From the pieces oozed a clear liquid like the white of an egg. And resting on the anvil was the oddest thing Pazel had ever seen.

It was another sphere, orange-sized or smaller, but impossible to look at directly. It seemed to be made of night. It had no surface features-no surface at all, as far as he could tell. It was merely black and cold. And wrong. Something in Pazel's mind and bones and blood rejected the sphere. It was a flaw, a wound in the world. Across the ship men's faces paled.

"Master," said Arunis to the Shaggat, "I keep my promises."

"No," said the Shaggat. "I take what is mine."

Suddenly his voice rose in a thunderous roar. Spittle flew from his mouth as he turned, gesturing wildly. "Bow down, sorcerer! Bow, kings, generals, all lesser princes of this world! The Shaggat is come, the Shaggat, to cleanse and claim it! Behold, I wield the Nil-stone!"

Dozens of ixchel voices began to scream. "It's true! By the hallowed names, it's true! Kill him, kill him, Pazel Pathkendle! Kill him now!"

The little people must have been hiding everywhere. But one voice-the voice of Dri in Pazel's shirt-hissed, "Not yet!"

A wall of Turachs stood between Pazel and the forge, terribly nervous, ready to stab anything that moved. Even if he wanted to, Pazel doubted he could ever reach the two men.

"Bow your heads!" screamed the Shaggat Ness.

Arunis bowed. The Shaggat's sons groveled on their bellies. Everyone else merely gaped. The Shaggat put out his hand and grasped the Nilstone. For a moment all eyes were on him.

"Now!" said Dri. "Do it! Run!"

Pazel burst into the circle, running full tilt, and dived beneath the legs of the nearest Turach. The man stabbed at him, but too late. Pazel crashed forward, stopping inches from the Shaggat's heels.

The mad king was raising the Nilstone to the sun. A roar of triumph came from his throat. Pazel reached up-and Arunis, catching sight of him, drew his knife. But before either could act the Shaggat's roar became a wail of pain.

The hand that gripped the Nilstone was dead. Hideously dead, the fingers rotted, the bones erupting through the skin. And death was running like flame up the Shaggat's arm.

Howling, the Shaggat whirled. "Betrayed! Betrayed! Kill the sorcerer, kill every-"

He broke off. A tarboy was looking him in the eye. And Pazel touched him and spoke the Master-Word.

It was like an earthquake beneath the sea. Pazel felt that it was not him but the entire world that had spoken, every part of it at once. The sun turned black, or else too bright for human eyes. Clouds in the distance were torn to shreds. But there was no wind, no waves-and already the Word was gone from his mind.

All about the deck, men stumbled in a daze. What had just happened? What had changed?

Pazel lowered his hand. Before him stood a statue of a king with one dead arm, raising his withered fist in the air. Within that fist lay the Nilstone, unchanged. But the Shaggat was no more.

Arunis looked at the statue and then whirled to face Pazel, his eyes bewildered and lost. It was as if he were seeing the tarboy for the first time-and seeing too his own impossible defeat.

"A child," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "A lowborn brat. What madness moves you, boy?"

Then Diadrelu spoke, for Pazel's ears alone. "Hold your ground. Have no fear of him. If his knife-hand moves I shall slit his throat."

Not a man stirred on the Great Ship. But one creature did: Ramachni. Moving gingerly, the black mink walked into the circle and looked up at the mage.

"The dragonlords of old had a saying, Arunis," he said. "No one fondles fire and escapes unburned. How careless you have been! You raided libraries, stole many books. You knew the Nilstone could make your Shaggat invincible. But had you read further, you would have learned that every mortal man who has touched it since the time of Erithusmй has died on the spot. For what is the Nilstone, Arunis? You have spent your life craving it. Surely you know?"

"It is the greatest weapon on earth," said Arunis.

"No," said Thasha from behind them. "It's death."

No one had heard her approach. Ramachni looked at her and nodded.

"Death given form," he said. "And none who fear death in any corner of their heart may wield it. The Fell Princes drank an enchanted wine from Agaroth, the twilit land that borders death's kingdom, before they touched the Nilstone. Drinking, they knew no fear, and so they took the stone and used it for unspeakable evil. But they had only so much wine. And you have none at all."

Ramachni shook his head. "Arunis! All your will has been bent to the unleashing of violence-a war, a warlord, this evil Nilstone. You thought to control it, as you controlled the Shaggat Ness. But we are never long the masters of the violence we unleash. In the end it always masters us."

"Reverse the spell," hissed Arunis. "Make the Shaggat flesh again. Remember that Thasha Isiq is mine to kill."

"But you will not kill her," said Ramachni.

"Will I not?" screamed the mage suddenly. "How is that? Will you stop me, weasel?"

"I already have," said Ramachni. "You see, Arunis, I did not spend my power fighting the fleshancs, as you wished me to. I spent it long before. A great deal went into teaching Pazel his Master-Words. Very much worth the trouble, as it turns out."

Pazel smiled despite himself.

"Yet two problems remained," Ramachni continued. "One was the curse on Thasha's necklace, which I could not break. Tell me, did Syrarys know that she was condemning Thasha to death when she used your silver polish?"

Arunis made no answer. Pazel saw Thasha glance suddenly across the deck, to where Lady Oggosk stood beside the captain. Pit-fire, he thought. Was the old woman trying to save Thasha when she sent her cat to steal the necklace? What's her blary game?

"The second problem," Ramachni went on, "was that so many people were willing to murder the innocent, should the Shaggat die. Not just you, but Sandor Ott, Drellarek, the Emperor himself. So I dared not kill the Shaggat, or even allow him to die."

"Then the spell can be reversed!"

"It can," said Ramachni, "but Pazel cannot do it. Nor can I, nor anyone aboard. The Shaggat will become flesh again when one soul aboard Chathrand-and I shall never tell you which-dies. It may be Thasha, or this boy before you. Or Rose, or Uskins, anyone at all. The minute that one dies, the Stone-Word shall be reversed."

"Is that the best you could do?" cried Arunis. "Let the Shaggat be stone, then, until we cross the Ruling Sea and meet his army of worshippers! He will be far less trouble! Once on Gurishal I shall no longer require these men. And I shall kill them: all six hundred, if need be. I shall find your spell-keeper!"

"And when you kill that person," said Thasha, eyes wide with understanding, "the Shaggat will turn back into flesh, and the Nil-stone will kill him. Oh, Pazel! How did you know when to speak? You were wonderful!"

"And you are without friends, Arunis," said Hercуl.

Rage clouded the sorcerer's eyes. He looked sharply at Thasha and raised his hand. "I do not have to kill her to make her suffer," he said.

Thasha's necklace gave a savage twist. She could not even scream. Her face turned crimson and tears sprang from her eyes.

Pazel's first thought was to beg the augrongs to stomp Arunis to death once and for all. But only Arunis could make the necklace stop-Ramachni had just said as much. Thasha staggered, her eyes rolling back in her head. Pazel caught her as she fell.

In the face of Eberzam Isiq, something snapped. He drew his old sword and flew at Arunis, shouting a war-cry. Just in time, Hercуl leaped into his path and dragged him aside. Arunis laughed in the old man's face.

Then they all heard it: the flat sound of metal striking stone. Arunis whirled. There was Neeps, a lump of iron in his hand, smashing the toes of the Shaggat Ness.

"We don't have to kill him to make him a cripple!" he said.

On his last word the Shaggat's big toe shattered to dust.

"Stop! Stop!" bellowed Arunis. "You shell-island scum! Very well, I release her-for now."

Thasha gulped air, writhing in Pazel's arms. Her throat was red and raw. Eberzam Isiq dropped heavily to his knees beside Pazel, and together they held her.

Sergeant Drellarek came forward. "Sorcerer," he said, "you speak with contempt of the Shaggat Ness. You are no believer. Why make use of him? Why did you not take the stone for yourself?"

"Keep to your own affairs, Turach," snarled Arunis.

"That's an easy one," piped up Druffle, from the edge of the crowd. "He was afraid! Didn't know what he was afraid of, exactly, but whatever the risk, he wanted somebody else to take it. The Shaggat's just your hand-puppet, ain't he, you louse?"

"The Shaggat is everyone's hand-puppet!" screamed Arunis.

"Or no one's," said Ramachni.

"Idiot mage! Why do you meddle in the affairs of my world? Have men not done enough harm in your own? Look at that beast!" He stabbed a finger at the Shaggat. "Made for slaughter! A curse on any land, a plague-bearer, a despoiler of all he sees! If he ever conquers Alifros he'll find himself the emperor of ashes!"

Pazel looked up at the sorcerer. Then why are you helping him?

"You are wrong about humans," said Ramachni. "There is evil in them, of course. But there is also sublime beauty, and a thirst for good. It is that thirst that makes them change, and grow, and wake each day a bit more fully."

"They can no more change than His Nastiness here," said Arunis. "They are statues. Gargoyles. Souls of stone."

Ramachni shook his head. "They are fluid souls. What they can feel, and imagine, and rise to-not even they yet appreciate."

"Even the Shaggat is more than just a statue," said Hercуl.

Sergeant Drellarek raised his hand. "Enough! This is a stalemate, wizard. You cannot beat them, nor they you. Leave the deck! You have already come close to sinking the Great Ship. If it is true that the Shaggat can be restored to life, then our mission will go on. I know nothing of curse-stones and magic wine, but I have my orders. The girl will marry and fulfill Ott's prophecy. We shall feign our own wreck and vanish into the Ruling Sea, and Captain Rose will see us safely across her. You, sorcerer, will have months to prove that you are smarter than three youths and a mink."

Arunis' hands clenched in rage. "You, Throatcutter-you and your kind sought to kill me forty years ago. My body hung from a noose on Licherog, but my spirit lived. Death is my servant, not my master. I will free the Shaggat. And Thasha will marry, or die at my feet. This I promise you."

"Then the Emperor's will be done," said Drellarek, and his warriors cheered: "His will be done! His will be done!"

"Rin help us, the idiots," Dri whispered to Pazel. "They're cheering for their own deaths."

Arunis looked from face to face, his eyes shining with hate. Last of all his gaze fell on Chadfallow.

"What says the good doctor?" he sneered.

Pazel and the others looked as well, hardly more friendly than Arunis. Chadfallow dropped his eyes.

"The Emperor's will be done," he said.