A week later, in driving rain, the Brise cleared the Straits of Kistan and pitched into the heaving waters of the Weston Ocean. All that day she drove through the rolling waves, rounding the shoulder of Vancha. The very next day Egil set a northwesterly course for the western reach of Gelen, and onward they fared.

Every day they reviewed their plan and tried to account for all events, yet much would depend upon the Dragon, and who can predict the whims of such a creature?

And every night, in the depths of the darkness, Aiko sensed distant peril, yet they could find nought to explain the warnings of the red tiger between her breasts: neither ship on the ocean nor creature of the sea did they espy under the sun or moon, and none saw the dark winged thing sliding across the stars afar.

"Where will we land, Egil?"

Egil looked up from the chart he had drawn. Then he pointed: "Here is Dragons' Roost at the end of the Gron-fangs, where they plunge into the sea. And here churns the Great Maelstrom, between Dragons' Roost on the east and the Seabanes to the west. Here on the southerly approach to Dragons' Roost lies the realm of Gron, a foul land full of Rutcha and such, ruled by a dark Wizard in an iron tower, or so it is said. Here on the north and eastern flanks are the Steppes of Jord, a domain of grass and horses."

"Yes, but, where will we land?" repeated Ferret.

"Not too near the Great Maelstrom, I hope," said Delon. "From what I hear, I wouldn't want to get sucked into that thing."

Alos, at the tiller, shuddered and groaned, but otherwise said nothing.

Again Egil's finger stabbed to the parchment. "Rumor has it that there are perhaps two ways up the mountain to the ledge: one starting in Gron, said to be the easiest to manage; the other beginning in Jord, a more difficult climb, I am told."

Aiko looked up from the map and into Egil's good eye. "Rumor? Is there no accurate description?"

Egil shook his head. "None I know of. Those who have sailed closer than I report such things."

"Has anyone climbed either route?" rumbled Burel.

"If any did," replied Egil, "none has returned to tell the tale."

Alos moaned and looked out to sea, his gaze filling with tears, and he muttered, "Snap us up like sweetmeats all."

"Can we bring the ship nigh enough to see for ourselves?" asked Arin, studying the map.

"The Maelstrom has a long reach, love," replied Egil.

"Even so, can we sail 'tween here and here?" Arin pointed to the channel between the closest two of the Sea-bane Islands.

Egil turned to Alos. "What do you think, Alos?"

The oldster shuddered, then said in a flat tone, "Shipmates, my shipmates." Egil spread the map before the oldster. Alos wiped the tears from his good eye and stared at the drawing, his breath coming in short gasps. Finally he said, "Perhaps… but it will be too perilous, I tell you. I mean, there's a Dragon on the ledge above who can swoop down and swallow us whole, and there's Krakens in these waters who can rise up from out of the depths and drag us under and swallow us whole. And then there's the Great Maelstrom, and if it catches us, ship and all it will swallow us whole."

Arin sighed and looked at the oldster. "If we cannot sail nigh to see for ourselves and must trust to rumor, of the two approaches Egil has named I favor the Jordian side, for a crossing of Gron, no matter how brief, is perilous."

Arin looked up and 'round, receiving nods from all but Alos, who instead peered out to sea, tears again running down his face.

They spent three rainy days in the West Gelen port of Anster, and all the time they were there, Alos was deep in his cups, the oldster trying to drown his fear in drink. Aiko had given up on the task of keeping him sober for, after all, he had safely guided them into and out of Serpent Cove and, other than helming the ship to Jord, there was no part for him to play in the retrieval of the Dragonstone from the Kraken Pool, hence his role in the venture was done. And so she ignored the fact that he was falling-down drunk all the time they were aland, though she was more than fed up with his intemperate blubberings of the doom lying ahead.

On the second night they were in Anster, or rather just before dawn of the third day, as lightning strode across the sky Egil was plagued by a particularly hideous dream, reliving the horror of Miki's face being flayed, the skin being ripped away, the tiny muscles underneath being exposed in wet redness, each muscle then being plucked like individual strings on a grisly, bloody harp, and Miki screaming and screaming and screaming.

Arin held Egil while he wept.

Egil looked up from his plate. "What?"

"I just said, Egil, isn't it dead yet?" repeated Delon.

Egil looked back down. The rasher of bacon was hacked and chopped and torn, as if attacked by a savage beast. Egil slammed his knife to the table and hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm going to kill that bastard."

"Who?"

"Ordrune. When this is over, I'm going back to Serpent Cove and kill him."

"My thoughts exactly," said Burel. "He must pay for my father."

"And my men," added Egil.

"We will need to gather a force," said Aiko. "Enough to throw down his walls or to set siege if necessary."

"And a Mage or two to counter his castings," added Arin.

"That will cost," said Ferret, "yet there should be enough treasure within his walls to pay for all and leave much for us."

"Well then, I take it we know what we will do once this is finished," said Delon. Then he turned to Egil. "But tell me, my friend, why this sudden rage?"

Egil shook his head. "Oh, no, Delon. This rage is not sudden at all, but was forty hideous days in the making and has been tempered for years in the fires of wrath."

"Yes, yes, but why now, this morning?" He looked at Arin to see grief and compassion in her eyes. Enlightenment dawned and he turned back to Egil. "Oh. Another dream, eh? Particularly bad, I take it."

Egil took a deep breath. "Particularly. And I am cursed to relive his monstrous depravities each night."

Burel glanced at Arin and said, "Cannot the Mages at Rwn lift such a curse? If so, why not go there now? According to Egil's charts, the isle is but a week or so away-north and west of here."

Before Arin could reply, Egil said, "No, Burel. Let us first get the Dragonstone and then sail to Rwn. If they can lift the curse, that is the time to try. We've been on this mission for nearly a year-"

"Nearly two," interjected Aiko.

Egil looked at her, then nodded. "Yes. It's been nearly two years since Arin had her vision."

"Two years in July," murmured Arin.

"In July it will be a full year for me," said Egil, then added, "and for Alos. -Regardless, my thinking is that we know not when the doom is set to fall, and the sooner we can get the stone into safe hands, the better for all. After we deliver it to the Mages at the college on Rwn, then and only then should we see if they can lift this hideous curse from my nightly dreams. But whether they can or cannot, I'm going after Ordrune."

"And I will go with you," said Burel, raising his cup to Egil.

And so did they all, all but Alos, who was yet passed out in his room above.

At mid of night on the fourth day after leaving the port of Anster, Arin and her companions stepped out the Elven rite of the vernal equinox, for it was the twenty-first of March- Springday.

On the twenty-third they changed course from a northerly run to head north-northeastward, and late in the day of the twenty-fifth they crossed into the icy waters of the Northern Sea, the Brise bound for the wide channel 'tween Thol and Leut.