Of a sudden, Arin stopped, Aiko with her. The Dylvana turned and pulled Egil and Delon close. "There," she breathed. "In the darkness nigh the slip. Jutlanders. Seven-no, eight altogether."

"Splendid," hissed Delon, peering in the direction Arin pointed. "That's but two apiece. Yet I see nothing but darkness where you say they are."

"Elven eyes see well at night," murmured Arin, "by lantern or starlight alone, even in shadows."

Egil touched Delon on the shoulder. "Neither you nor I can see them, yet recall: the Jutes wear black."

Delon nodded, still unable to make out the foe. "What now?"

Aiko looked at the bard and Egil. "Let us turn the tables."

"How so?" asked Egil.

"Waylay those who think to waylay us," she replied. "Lead them into a trap of our own devising."

"Is there no other way?" asked Arin.

"Perhaps a thousand, love," said Egil, "yet we must act now ere Ferret comes."

"She may already be here and their prisoner," sissed Delon.

Aiko said flatly, "They are skulkers, set to kill us. Your mercy is misplaced, Dara."

Egil scanned the docks. "I can decoy them. Get them to run past here, where you could take them from behind- that would cut down the odds quickly."

Aiko nodded in agreement and hissed, "Subarashii! Remember: take them from behind!" and before any could move she sheathed her blades and stepped out into the light of a distant lantern, and, singing a Ryodoan song, she swaggered down the dock toward the waiting ambush.

"Rauk!" spat Egil, but then turned to the others. "Make ready."

They watched as Aiko sang her way toward the Brise.

"What if they have bows?" sissed Delon.

"They don't," said Arin.

As Aiko neared the sloop, armed men in black moved out into the dim light. "Aufhalten!" rang out a command.

Aiko looked up as if surprised. "Oh!" she squeaked, quailing back.

The Jutlanders moved toward her, and shrieking, Aiko turned and ran back the way she had come.

One of the men shouted, "Ergreifen Sie sie!" and they thundered after her, their longer legs eating up the distance between.

Up the docks she came, the men gaining, and in the darkness Egil's knuckles were white upon the helve of his axe, as were Arin's on her long-knife and Delon's on his rapier.

Aiko ran some yards past their position, then whirled, drawing her swords. Now she shouted, "Kuru! Ajiwau hqjgane!"

The pursuing Jutes skidded to a halt, for suddenly the victim had grown fangs.

"Vorsicht!" warned one of the men, and just as they began to spread wide to take this yellow woman from all sides, from behind the trio struck: Egil's axe hewing down a man with a single blow; Arin's long-knife sliding under a shoulderblade to pierce through another's heart; Delon's rapier thrusting into a third Jutlander only to become lodged against bone. Men in black whirled, facing these new opponents, and one raised a horn to his lips to sound a call. But ere the trumpet belled a single note, from the blackness there flashed a dagger tumbling through the air, and the blade sprang full-blown in the man's throat, and dropping his horn and clutching his neck the Jutlander fell gurgling. In the fore, Aiko slew one man and then another, while Delon's blade was wrenched from his hand as the man he had killed fell to the pier, taking the lodged rapier down with him. Delon looked up to see a Jutlander blade swinging at his head, and he sprang aside as another dagger flashed out of the dark to pierce his attacker's breast. The man staggered backward and fell over a slain comrade and did not rise again. Egil's axe took down the last Jute.

They looked at one another panting, and a figure stepped out of the darkness.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, a brace of throwing daggers in hand.

It was Ferret.

"Ferret!" exclaimed Delon.

She ignored his greeting. “The kingsguard will be down here soon, looking for escaped Rovers, any that got away, that is, for they're likely to try to steal a ship."

In the lanternlight they could see bandoliers of daggers crisscrossing her chest. She stepped to two of the slain Jutes and retrieved her knives, cleaning the blades on the dead men's cloaks. "These bastards were waiting. I thought them kingsmen. I didn't know they would attack you. Fortunate I stopped to get some of my things, eh?"

"Come," said Arin. "Ferai is right: kingsmen will soon be here to stop pirates from stealing ships, to say nought of other Jutlanders searching for us. We must flee."

"What about these bodies?" asked Delon.

"Let be," answered Egil. "We will be gone in less time than it would take to hide them."

"I will get Alos while you ready the ship," said Aiko, and she started back toward the bales of flax.

"Alos? Who is Alos?" asked Ferret, stepping into the shadows to emerge with a small satchel.

"He's one of the one-eyes in dark water," replied Deion without elaborating. "Now come on, let's get out of here before the warders or more Jutlanders arrive."

As they hurried toward the ship, from a pocket she fished out his belt and handed it to Delon. "Thanks. The buckle tongue makes a suitable lockpick for cell doors."

Delon laughed and took the belt and fastened it about his waist.

Now they came to the Brise. As Arin and Egil began raising the sails, Delon said, "Help me with these lines, Ferret."

"These Jutlanders: they were the men in black?"

"Aye. Men in black, with orange and gold hats on their heads. They're after us."

"Hmm, Jutlanders after you, kingsguards after me. I'd say it's time to fly."

"Sooner than you think, lass," said Egil. "When it occurs to the Jutes to come and see about the ambush, we need be long gone. Their Dragonship is faster than our sloop."

"Hsst!" hissed Arin, "someone nears."

They peered through the shadows along the docks. A figure came carrying a burden.

It was Aiko, and draped over her shoulder was Alos, the old man dead to the world. Bearing him like a sack of grain, she clambered over the wale and headed for the cabin as Delon and Ferret shoved the sloop out from the slip, vaulting on board as they did so.

And with all now aboard they sailed away into the sea underneath the glimmering stars.

CHAPTER 44

When the bark Red Hind had just passed the midpoint of her journey across Hile Bay-the ship being some ten nautical leagues out from Pendwyr, with nine leagues yet to go-Lord Steward Revor startled awake from a sound sleep in the dead of night.

The elusive thought had been captured at last.

He fumbled about on his bunkside table to find the lanthorn striker. Moments later yellow lamplight filled the tiny cabin.

He dragged the saddlebags from under his bunk, and he searched among the documents. At last he found the list he was looking for, and there on the slate of names of those to be executed was the one that gave him pause: Ferai.

Can this be the ferret Dari Arin is looking for?

He gazed out the porthole. Black night slid by.

Not likely, for Ferai is a thief, and what would a Dylvana want with a thief? Still, there is a slim chance.

Lord Revor sighed and looked at the list again.

In any event, it is long past sundown and entirely too late. She is dead by now. Still, if I hadn't been so pressed…

Lord Revor slipped the papers back into his saddlebags and slid them beneath the bed. Then he blew out the lanthorn.

He sat on the edge of the bunk in the dark for a while, then finally he lay back down.

Sleep was a long time coming.