He Sleeps Under the Hill Book III Chapter 11: Upon the Dead Sea, a wheel of time fanfic

Gleeman Bob writes: it has been far too long since I updated HSUtH and I have received messages from readers asking me if I was still alive! well, I am. I have just been busy with my Sword & Sorcery novel and a screenplay, that is all. this is a shorter chapter than usual you will be glad to hear, as the tale winds down to its conclusion there is less story to tell, after all. hope you enjoy it and as always...

Walk in the Light!

Oh, the Father of Storms' in a terrible mood

And the waves they are rolling and roiling and rude

If we want to drop anchor in harbour tonight –

Then we'd best start singing our praise to the Light!

Storm Shanty by Roth Blucha, Gleeman

Chapter 11 * Upon the Dead Sea

Part I : The Battle

N'aethan watched, amused – but also a little touched – by the open display of affection, as the three young Aes Sedai held each other in a warm embrace, the willowy red-head having to lean down a little, the buxom blonde going up onto her tip-toes, in their efforts to mutually hug Ellythia Sedai. They were laughing and crying at the same time. He had often wondered how females could accomplish that, just another mysterious skill of theirs, he supposed.

N'aethan realised that he was, after all, smiling fondly at three Aes Sedai, which was probably not a good idea – such things could be seen as patronising – so he turned and raised his gloved hands, taking the heavy bundle of bags and blankets that Gerom was lowering from above and untying the rope. There were some things there that he had taken from the Cenotaph that might prove useful, but they were only small, portable… there was much that would have to be left behind. He frowned. Father would not have wanted him to let his secrets fall into the hands of the Shadow… and there was but one way to ensure this. The Shadow-wrought, the Hag, they would have seen the ship, they would be coming soon.

The red-head (she must be this 'Shrinalla' he had heard described, making the other one 'Rennetta') had looked up, her perceptive gaze taking him in, Cohradin also… clearly, their presence confused her. "But where is Atual?" she asked.

Ellythia Sedai looked at her wordlessly, at Rennetta Sedai also, then shook her head slowly. The Aes Sedai were hugging each other again, N'aethan noted, but now there was no mirth… they were simply weeping.

Shrinalla Tolamani, Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah, scrubbed at her eyes furiously with the sleeve of her fine woollen gown, the Twins lingering to either side, their faces set like stone but a concerned cast in their eyes as they looked at her. She could feel their grief through the Bond as well as they hers, they would all miss Atual a great deal… but there was a small Shadowspawn army waiting on the cliffs, there would be time for tears and proper mourning later. Ellyth and Renn had gone back to the rowing boat with Jabal.

"Thaeus!" she heard Ellyth cry, "what are you doing here?!"

Shrina turned to the two men waiting at the foot of the rope ladder… she blinked… they were an odd-looking pair! A cursory examination revealed that the tall fellow on the left was some sort of an Aielman with a dreadful, disfiguring scar. She wondered where he had found the horrid glass eye… and as for the one on the right… but Shrina was aware that her face was still damp with tears, which was hardly how an Aes Sedai should present herself to strangers, or indeed, anyone.

"Excuse us," Shrina told them, "we have just heard of the passing of a friend."

"Sin'val Vadin was a brave man," declared the Aielman, nodding.

"Sin what?"

"This is the honour-name that we gave to Atual Aendwyn of the Far Madding Clan," the one-eyed fellow expounded, "he slew many of the Shadow-wrought and guarded his Aes Sedai valiantly with his life's blood."

The Twins looked momentarily pleased at this, then went back to eyeing the fellow on the right suspiciously. He had Atual's sword buckled to his belt...

Shrina decided that the glass eye did not look quite so bad, the fellow had traded it from a peddler, doubtless. He should have asked for a blue one.

"Yes," agreed the other man, "Atual Gaidin… honoured, am I, to hold his blade and stand ward for him." He had an even stranger accent than the Aielman. The Twins frowned. Shrina stared.

"It's you!" she exclaimed, "the naked chap from the vision! I've just realised! I didn't recognise you with your clothes on!" The Twins scowled, eyeing the odd fellow who appeared to be the Lady Ellythia's new Warder. He just blinked his large, strange eyes at her, his face solemn, then put a hand over the metal badge he wore over his heart, the other on his hilt and bowed formally.

"Honour to serve, Aes Sedai," he murmured, in an odd, husky voice with melodic accents. He spoke a little like a Falman, Shrina considered, before detecting the Twins' ire through the Bond.

"It's not my fault he was bare as a babe," she said defensively, "it was just something that Ghoetam showed to us… I didn't stare! Well, not that much… Renn was definitely staring more than me!"

The fellow was doing some staring himself. "The Lord Ghoetam?" he gasped. "Then you are the Hornsounder?"

Shrina nodded. "Well yes, I suppose that I am…"

"Honour to Diynen'd'ma'purvene!" He bowed again, lower this time, turning his head and hissing at the Aielman; "bow also, Cohradin – you stand in the presence of a Hornsounder!"

The Aielman blinked both his real and his glass eyes, looking a little sceptical, Shrina thought, then shrugged and reversed his spear with a swift twirl – she felt the Twins tense through the Bond – thrusting the point down into the shingle and bowing also, a cupped hand held out.

"May you always find water and shade, Aes Sedai."

"Hornsounder! You must call her that!"

"Hornsounder, then."

Shrina smiled dazzlingly at them. "How nice of you!" She then frowned, her full lips thinning. "But since it turned out to be the wrong bloody Horn, I would appreciate it if you did not call me that ever again."

"But Horns-"

"Ever!"

"Honour to obey, Aes Sedai…"

A deep-voiced interruption came from above, another Aielman;

"Nightwatcher! The twisted-ones begin to push their rafts down to the sea. They mean to cross, it would seem."

The odd-looking fellow from the vision nodded, then turned to Shrina apologetically. "Forgive me Aes Sedai, but there is something that I must go and do."

Ellyth was coming back from the boat, her arm about her brother, face still damp with tears, as was Renn's, as she followed on with Jabal.

Thaeus bowed politely to them, still holding his sister's hand, patting it soothingly. He addressed the Aielman and the one who seemed to be called 'Nightwatcher.' "I am to understand that I have you to thank for the fact that my sister yet lives, yes?" he stated. He looked very relieved, Shrina thought, of all of them, he had seemed to be the most concerned for Ellyth's safety on their journey north. They bowed back politely as Ellyth made introductions;

"These are Cohradin of the Wet Sands Shaido and Naythan Shieldman, who stands Ward to me now that…" her shoulders trembled a little and Renn wrapped a comforting arm around them.

Shrina sighed, swallowing her own grief, there would be time for that later when she and the Twins were alone together and could properly mourn the big, stern man from Far Madding who had ridden those many miles at their side. They had all learned much from Atual. Shrina did not remember her own father, who was lost at sea with her mother when she was very young… but on hearing the grim tidings, she had felt much as though she had lost a paternal father-figure for the second time. Well, they would mourn Atual later, the three of them – but for the nonce, it certainly seemed that there was some sort of battle in the offing… the very first battle for this particular Sister of the Battle Ajah.

Shrina decided to take command.

"Aebel that way, Blaek the other – the Shadowspawn will have seen the ship, they will try to circle around to us on either side, you are to delay but not engage them." The Twins swiftly uncased and strung their horse-bows with deft movements and hared-off to either side of the landing, scrambling with agile grace over the smooth, pale boulders. "Oh, and Renn, you and Ellyth – back to the ship!"

Shrina's voice had a certain snap to it, against which her friends rebelled.

"What do you mean; 'back to the ship?' "

"Who put you in charge?"

"I am of the Battle Ajah and this is a battle," Shrina declared firmly. "Jabal and your new Warder and the scary-looking Aielman can guard the landing but I want the two of you back in the boat… now hop!"

Ellyth glowered. "I am not a frog, Shrina!"

Shrina opened her mouth but the new Warder with the old-fashioned name – Naythan Gaidin – interrupted their argument.

"Excuse me Aes Sedai, but there is something very important that I must go and do," the fellow declared, limping over to the rock face and grasping the trailing rope. He paused, their eyes all on him. "I will need a Servant of All to come with me, it requires Channelling."

Ellyth stepped forward, but Shrina stopped her. "I shall go with him, you two… back to the ship!" Ellyth and Renn scowled, before starting back to the rowing boat, Jabal pacing them. "Be careful Naythan!" she heard Ellyth call, a strong note of concern in her voice. Shrina put her foot on the first rung of the rope ladder down which Ellyth had made her shaky descent.

Naythan Gaidin was addressing the Aielman; "protect the Aes Sedai, Cohradin, I will send other Shaido down to help."

The Aielman glanced at the rowing-boat drawn up on the shingle, the ship riding at anchor beyond it, then turned back. Shrina thought that he looked a bit sickly…

"You want us to go on that, Nightwatcher?"

"Yes! Do you wish to stay here?"

This Cohradin seemed to be considering it…

"It is better than going on a raft, Cohradin – more comfortable, I so assure you!" Cohradin scowled. "Gah! Do what you will! But watch over Aes Sedai you must or Sin'aethan Shadar Cor will give you a black eye to go with the red!"

"I thought it was the Nightwatcher's duty to protect the sleep of good Aiel children," Cohradin grumbled, "not Aes Sedai also!"

"Yes Aes Sedai also, that is day job, only protect Aiel at night do I!"

Shrina blinked. Men were strange, granted, but these two… where had Ellyth found such bizarre travelling companions?

"I will obey, Vron'cor," the Aielman muttered, hefting the bundle of blankets and saddlebags and carrying it down to the rowing boat.

Shrina shook her head and began to climb the rope ladder, felt it shake after a half-dozen steps and looked down. Thaeus was ascending right behind her!

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Coming with you, Shrina!"

"You are not my Warder!"

"No, you sent them away. But I must stay close to you, Aes Sedai, in case I should require further Healing, yes?" Thaeus smiled up at her, disarmingly. It wasn't fair that Ellyth's brother had such a beautiful smile! She was powerless to resist.

"Oh, very well… but don't you dare look up my skirts!"

This Naythan fellow seemed impatient; "come, Hornsound- Aes Sedai mean I, please to make haste – time is short, the crone must not steal Father's secrets!"

Shrina wasn't sure what he meant by this and could not ask because he was gone, hauling himself up with just his hands, his injured leg dangling, the other curled around the rope. Shrina blinked, then ran nimbly up the ladder, her divided skirts hampering her little as she had hauled them up and tied them, her silk-stockinged legs flashing… Shrina always wore woollen gowns as being more practical and what she was accustomed to, but had no compunctions about what little she wore beneath being of the finest silk. She was no stranger to running up ladders either… though it had been a few years since she had scrambled about on a deck or been sent aloft to reef sail, she took it in her stride. Even so, this Naythan Shieldman beat them to the steps near the top of the sea-mount and stood waiting, a polite gloved hand helping Shrina to her feet.

Thaeus had a rather smug half-smile on his lips… "You did look, didn't you?!" Shrina snapped. His sky-blue eyes were wide… innocent… honestly, they were in the middle of a bloody battle… men!

Naythan Gaidin was already hopping briskly up the steps, leaning heavily on the odd metal stick that had been attached to his belt.

Shrina ran to join him, Thaeus right behind. "That looks nasty," she said of his leg, "why don't you let me Heal it for you?"

"Would that I could, Aes Sedai," the strange fellow commented cryptically, and made an odd mewling noise in the back of his throat. There were two more Aielmen at the top of the old, crumbled steps, a very big one and a much smaller one, who was a little shorter than she – they bowed to her in the same odd way as the other had, spears poked down into the ground, so Shrina curtsied politely, using the motion to tug down the skirts she had tied about her thighs. They had glanced at her knees in surprise she noted, as though they had not known Aes Sedai possessed legs… well, they were accustomed to Ellyth's prudish ways, no doubt, now there was a girl who considered it outrageous to let a man so much as see her ankles!

"Gerom, Chassin, report to Cohradin, then go south around the rocks – there is a Warder there, assist him!" Naythan Shieldman's voice had the snap of one accustomed to giving orders and the Aielmen were not slow in obeying.

"Yes, Nightwatcher."

"It will be as you say, Vron'cor."

The two Aielmen trotted down the steps and descended to the landing, the small, pale-haired fellow sliding rapidly down the rope, the big fellow using the ladder with almost equal rapidity. Shrina pulled her eyes from the Aielmen, following the odd Warder up the steps.

"Why do they call you the Nightwatcher?" she asked.

"Because their mothers told them to, Aes Sedai!" He grinned briefly, but returned to looking serious and preoccupied in short order.

Shrina scowled. She did not like an 'enigmatic' response to a simple question! Thaeus chuckled a little. He often seemed to laugh at strange things… and why wouldn't the fellow let her Heal him?

There were two more Aiel at the top of the sea-mount, Aielwomen this time… 'Maidens of the Spear' Roth had called them, in the midst of his sordid reminisces. One, a red-head, stood on one side of the parapet to the north, another, a blonde, on the other side to the south. They both had arrows nocked to their horn bows. The red-head was drawing on something below, the blonde turned away from whatever lay beneath her feet, glancing over at the other Maiden… she turned when she saw them.

"Vron'cor, the Shadow-twisted are moving around either side, the rocks we hurled upon them are all gone and there are but few arrows left."

"Time to go! Manda!" The red-head ran over to join them. "You and Jahdi report to Cohradin, then go around the north side, there is a Warder there… he looks exactly like the other Warder, now that I think of it… aid him in holding back the Beastmen, we will not be long."

"What do you mean to do, Nightwatcher?" asked the red-head, while the blonde watched silently.

"I mean to… well, you will see, Maiden. Hard to miss, will it be!"

The two Maidens of the Spear ran lithely down the steps, giving Thaeus a quick, appreciative examination on the way past, making signs to each other with their fingers. This annoyed Shrina, though she could not have said why.

"I will not be long, I so assure you – anxious to leave also!" Naythan Gaidin called after them.

"Are those feet?" Shrina enquired, looking at the two massive lumps of stone atop the pedestal.

"Yes! Big Brother's feet!"

Naythan Gaidin leapt awkwardly up onto the parapet overlooking the eastern face of the sea mount and snarled angrily at whatever was going on down there. Shrina looked. Numerous heavy rafts paddled by Trollocs were still crossing the intervening water, more had already landed… she knew how little Shadowspawn cared for deep water and couldn't imagine what could have forced them to do so. He pointed the stick downwards, aiming along it. Shrina eyed the metal tube curiously.

"What does that-" a harsh, cracking sound interrupted her query, as did a bright bolt of light that flared from the end, shooting down to explode amidst a crowded raft, with devastating consequences. Shrina stared at the dismembered Trolloc corpses floating amidst shattered logs, the few survivors struggling as their heavy mail armour sunk them beneath the waves, then back at the tube which was smoking a little. "What is that?" she demanded, shocked but also fascinated.

"Lightning lance, Aes Sedai." He fired again, destroying another raft.

"Lightning?"

"Yes Aes Sedai." A third raft exploded.

"You can call me 'Shrina' you know," Shrina muttered absently, peering down at the Trollocs and Fades swarming up the beach, then frowning with concentration for a moment. A loud crack of thunder sounded above and the grey clouds spat forth a succession of jagged lightning bolts which marched up the beach, leaving still, scorched Shadowspawn in their wake. "There!" Shrina announced, "that is lightning, I think you will find!"

"Yes indeed, Aes Sedai."

Shrina frowned. "Stop calling me 'Aes Sedai' all the time… it did not look like lightning…"

"No, it is not, not really, Hornsounder Sedai…"

"Aargh! Shrina!"

"Come, Shrinalla Sedai, we must hurry!"

Still favouring his injured leg, this Nightwatching Naythan fellow went hopping down the dark stairs atop the pedestal, practically tugging her along by the hem of her gown! Well, he was a little brusque, Shrina thought, but his need for haste was clearly urgent, so she hiked up her skirts and ran along the gallery and down the ramp in his wake, Thaeus racing after her. It was gloomy down here – there was a big statue of a laughing man and what looked like an open tomb with more stairs inside. Shrina's eyes moved back to the statue – an enormous great heroic figure with a bear's pelt draped over his head and shoulders, holding a big, four-bladed-

"It's him!" she exclaimed, "the giant Hero from Roth's story!"

Naythan Gaidin looked oddly pleased. "So they still tell it?" he enquired. "Good, good…" He set his back against the statue's plinth and heaved, grunting with effort, and the base swivelled on one of its corners, revealing more stairs beneath, a spiral staircase carved into the stone, extending down into the dark. "Father always used to move it with the Power," he muttered, starting down the stairs, "forgot how heavy it was…"

Shrina embraced the Source and summoned a saidar light before following… the darkness did not seem to hamper him, he must have very good night-vision.

"What is this place?" Thaeus enquired softly, his voice echoing in the circular shaft, "where are we going?"

"As soon as I have the slightest bloody idea, I'll be glad to tell you!" Shrina snapped.

The stairs went down a long way… a very long way…

"Hurry, Shrinalla Sedai!" she heard a faint voice call from the depths.

"I'm coming as fast as I can, burn-it!" Shrina shouted, beginning to wish that she had not volunteered for this… whatever it was… but Ellyth had looked rather pale at the prospect of climbing back up here – though she always looked rather pale as a matter of course. As for Shrina, the ladder had winded her a little, and all these stairs… she was not so young as she was, after all… but then, the spiral steps ended.

They opened out into a wide, round chamber, a narrow parapet running about the curved walls. There were glowing crystals in the domed ceiling that cast a dim illumination, so Shrina let the saidar light wink out.

"What is that?" Thaeus enquired, examining the deep pool of clear, crystalline liquid that occupied the centre of the chamber. He was staring at it in fascination, Shrina noted. Naythan Gaidin spoke softly;

"It is a saidin well."

Shrina gasped.

Aebel Gaidin closed an eye, scowling with concentration, and put an arrow through the boar-snouted Trolloc's forehead. It tumbled to the ground, trampled by the next one. There was a gap between two enormous boulders, one of which looked like a hand, and the Trollocs could only approach one-at-a-time. Aebel nocked another arrow to the bowstring, beginning to draw on the next Trolloc, when a knife sprouted in its face, a very large knife.

Aebel turned. The owner of the very large knife, a very large Aielman, loomed to one side of him, a much shorter Aielman to the other. Aebel lowered his bow, touching his sword-hilt. Both Aiel were wearing black veils he could not help but note – Uncle Perel had served with the Winged Guards in the Aiel War and had told them this was usually a bad sign, as had Atual Gaidin. Aebel frowned. The big Aielman spoke in a deep voice;

"Peace, Warderman, we come to dance with them, not you."

The two Aielmen ran past, raising their spears, leaving Aebel feeling superfluous… he scowled, slung his bow on his back and drew his sword, following.

Blaek Gaidin closed an eye, scowling with concentration, and put an arrow through the goat-faced Trolloc's neck. It tumbled to the ground, trampled by the next one. There was a gap between two enormous boulders, one of which looked like a hand, and the Trollocs could only approach one-at-a-time. Blaek nocked another arrow to the bowstring, beginning to draw on the next Trolloc – and an arrow sprouted in its face.

Blaek turned to discover a red-headed Aielwoman nocking another arrow to her horn bow. She winked at him above her black veil.

"You are a very pretty fellow," she observed. A blonde Aielwoman shrugged, before letting loose her own arrow.

"The fair-haired fellow with the Aes Sedai was comelier," she opined.

The red-head shook her head decisively. "Yes, mayhap, but he had boring blue eyes, this one has much prettier eyes, like polished onyx."

"True," agreed the blonde, nocking another arrow.

Blaek blinked. They were strange, these Aiel.

"For the last time, it is Shrina!"

"Yes Shrinalla Sedai. Sorry Shrinalla Sedai."

"Oh for the love of-"

"What would you like us to call you?" Thaeus enquired of the obstinate fellow.

He shrugged. "Shieldman, call me, Lord of the Desiamas."

"Very well, Shieldman, but why do you call me that?"

"Your sister is Lady!"

"She has doubtless behaved like one! Lord Whitecloak will be fine."

Shrina grabbed the Shieldman's coat to get his attention, gesturing at the deep, crystalline pool. "Wait, saidin? You mean, this is the male half of the True Source?"

Thaeus returned to staring with fascination at the pool of glowing liquid, taking a step closer to it before the Shieldman put a warning hand on his chest.

"Careful, Lord Whitecloak whose cloak is not white but black, you do not wish to go swimming in there, I so assure you!" Thaeus shook his head, seeming to come back to himself a little.

"What of the Dark One's Taint?" Shrina demanded, still eyeing the crystalline well suspiciously, "I would have thought the saidin would be all black and oily on the surface, something like that…"

"Oh no, Shrinalla Sedai, this well was created before the Strike, the Backlash… it is pure… just hope there is enough for… yes…" Sounding distracted, the Shieldman was limping around to the far side of the pool where there was a broad archway. More of the strange crystals began to glow as Shrina and Thaeus followed him through into a large, circular chamber. Shrina looked around. It was very dusty in here, full of strange objects; things that looked like long, deep horse-troughs made of some thick, clear substance, tall glass tubes, cages of iridescent wire, racks of clear flasks. There were more dark archways set at intervals in the walls concealing who knew what…

"What is this place?" enquired Shrina, at a loss.

"Father's place, Shrinalla Sedai. Place that the Big Hall never found out about, think I!" He made the odd sound in the back of his throat again, moving stiffly over to an object set in the exact centre of the chamber. A tall, dark plinth supporting a bust carved in the finest, pale marble… a handsome, proud face, a hint of sadness and worry around the eyes, a good-humoured mouth, though with a melancholy twist to the lips, hair falling down to the shoulders.

Shrina had no idea who it was. The Shieldman looked at it regretfully.

"Who is that?"

"The Lord of the Morning, he is."

"Goodness!"

Then, the Shieldman lifted the bust off the pedestal – it looked as though it weighed a great deal but he did not seem to strain – and raised it up over his head!

"What are you doing?" Shrina demanded.

The Shieldman grinned, his pointy teeth flashing. "Forgive me, my Dragon!" he shouted, then smashed the bust forcefully down onto the smooth, glassy floor. It shattered. Shrina blinked. This new Warder of Ellyth's, who the Sages of the Horn had shown her (shown her quite a lot of!) well… he was an unusual fellow! Then, she noticed that amidst the white marble chunks of the broken bust that lay at their feet was a round, gleaming, black object – a sphere of smooth, dark crystal that had seemingly been hidden inside the carven statuette.

"Ah, there it is," commented the Shieldman, "just as Father said." He stooped to pick it up, limping back out of the chamber. Shrina and Thaeus exchanged a confused glance then made to follow – almost running into the Shieldman's broad back, as he had stopped abruptly at the archway, staring at something. Shrina followed his gaze. He was eyeing one of the clear, column-shaped containers, like a large jar, standing against the wall. It looked more ornate than the other, smaller ones and was also marked with a symbol where the other tubes were unrelieved; a four-sided diamond shape, in red.

"Huh!" said the Shieldman, "thought so!"

Shrina blinked again, then followed him out to the saidin well. "This is all very confusing," she complained, "you said you needed an Aes Sedai to help you do… whatever it is you're doing, but-"

"Forgiveness Aes Sedai but now is it time for you to do your part!" He held up the dark, crystalline sphere. It gleamed faintly. "Please to Channel webs – weaves, mean I – into this, threads of all five Powers must it be…"

Shrina frowned. She had no idea what the lump of crystal was and wished that Ellyth was there to confirm whether it were a ter'angreal or no. She thought she could see glimmers of red light in the crystal's depths, moving in a slow, circular, swirling pattern. She frowned. "Oh very well," she muttered, as she Channelled, "but it had better not do something nasty, like turn me into a tree!"

"A… tree?"

"Never mind!" The black sphere glowed faintly as it soaked-up the weaves, and Shrina fancied she could see further movement in its ebon depths as the swirls of light turned faster in whirling striations. The Shieldman looked at the crystal for a moment, then sighed. "Shame…" he muttered, but then his expression firmed, "but the crone has too much lost knowledge already – cannot let her steal Father's secrets!" And with this, he tossed the black sphere into the centre of the well of saidin.

Shrina stared. What in the waves was going on? The sphere disappeared beneath the surface without a sound nor a disturbance in that gleaming liquid, sinking down, down… then vanished with a flash that encompassed the pool. The Shieldman was still staring intently as though waiting for something. Then, with slow, gradual momentum, the liquid saidin began to move, light flickering deep within in occasional bursts, a little like lightning, moving in a circular motion as though some sort of whirlpool was gradually forming.

"It has begun," the Shieldman mused, "no stopping it now." He glanced at Shrina and grinned. He had very sharp-looking teeth… he reminded her a little of Elyas, in a way… "Time to leave it is, Aes Sedai!"

Shrina nodded, glanced at Thaeus, who was staring into the slowly swirling well of saidin, a small smile on his lips. "Thaeus?" He continued to stare. The motion of the saidin whirlpool seemed to be speeding up, intensifying whilst she watched. "Thaeus!"

"Mmm? Oh, yes, of course…"

The Shieldman was tearing the splints from his injured leg – wincing, he experimentally bent the knee a little. Cartilage crackled. "Tsag!" he growled.

"Uh!" Shrina shuddered. "Why don't you let me – oh bother, I'll just bloody do it anyway!" And she knelt gracefully, seized his limb and cast a Healing weave… then watched, dumbfounded, as it melted and dissipated into nothing.

"Said you could not Heal Sin'aethan Shadar Cor."

"Wh- why did it not work on you?"

"Why does a duck not care that it is raining?"

It was aggravating to have a question answered with a question!

"What… what are you?" Shrina spluttered.

"Told to you already, did I… Shieldman!" The Shieldman glanced at the saidin well, the steadily increasing circular motion – it seemed to be tearing at the sides, flakes of stone being worn steadily away, as though this slow whirlpool were the nucleus of some gradually widening sphere of destruction. "Aes Sedai, I tell you true; it really is time that we should go!"

They went. Thaeus offered the Shieldman a helping hand up the steps but he waved him on, limping and hopping in their wake as they swiftly ascended the spiral stairs. They seemed to go on forever, Shrina had not recalled there being quite so many steps on the way down, and she was feeling somewhat winded by the time they re-emerged into the big round chamber. The Shieldman did not follow them to the ramp, but stood for a moment, staring up at the statue… or at the big axe held in those carven hands. A tremor seemed to shake the stone beneath her feet – Shrina frowned. Thaeus gave her arm a tug. She pulled away. Another tremor, stronger.

"Naythan Shieldman! I don't know what's going on, but hadn't we better…" More tremors… a groaning sound from the ceiling, dust drifting down. He blinked, then snatched the axe from the hands, securing it across his back via the leather strap that dangled from it. He bowed his head to the statue and then trotted after them. The walls continued to shake as they hastened to the steps above.

Shrina was the first to the middle of the gallery where the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai was set in the wall, though feeling somewhat puffed-out. She released her skirts and started for the steps, but a gloved hand rested on her shoulder, gently but immovably holding her in place.

"Wait, Aes Sedai… there are Shadowmen."

Shrina blinked. "I can't sense anything…"

The Shieldman grinned, patting the odd metal badge he wore over his heart. "Me neither… but warded or not, nose does not lie. Three, there are." He scowled.

Shrina jumped. His eyes had gone slitty, just like a-

"Sorry Shrinalla Sedai," he muttered absently, "it is just that Myrddraal stink!" He slipped past her, drawing his sword and ascended the steps, bending the knee of his injured leg experimentally, limbering it for the coming fight with more cracking and crunching whilst Shrina stared after him in confusion. Then Thaeus pushed in front of her too, just like the Warders always did, as though being the first into danger was some jealously guarded perquisite of theirs! Thaeus drew the long, Heron-mark sword from the sheath at his back, smiling down at her. He had a lovely smile…

"This new Warder of my sister's is an interesting fellow, yes?" and then he was slipping up the stairs at the heels of the prowling Shieldman, their blades bared and at the ready. Shrina scowled, embraced the Source, then hitched up her skirts and followed. A fresh wave of tremors shook the walls as she did so. She heard steel clash above and frowned. Her sword was back on the ship.

Shrina emerged into the open air in time to see the Shieldman parry a Thakan'dar-forged sword that had been sweeping at his neck and deliver a double-handed return-stroke, the Power-forged blade moving almost too fast to see, a blow of enormous force as it sheered up diagonally under the Fade's armpit to cut its arm and head and part of the opposite shoulder clean away from the body, the Myrddraal's two halves collapsing and thrashing as dark blood sprayed. Shrina stared. It was like one of those impossible feats of sword-play described in the ancient heroic legends…

"Look out!"

Another Myrddraal darted in, dark blade thrusting at the Shieldman but Shrina could not Channel as he was in the way. His left hand seemed to blur up to his face and he caught the Myrddraal's blade in a gloved fist, bringing the vicious thrust to a sudden stop – he smiled at the Fade for a brief instant, then his right arm blurred and the point of his sword plunged clean through the Myrddraal's forehead and out the back of its skull. He twisted and withdrew… the Fade collapsed bonelessly, its pale hand slipping from the hilt of its dark sword which the Shieldman still held by the blade. He frowned at it, propped the hilt against the ground and broke the dark sword neatly with his booted foot.

Thaeus was duelling another Myrddraal, a half-dozen wounds scattered over its pale body as it circled him, cutting and thrusting with serpentine speed. Again, Shrina prepared weaves to intervene, but even as she did, Thaeus rolled gracefully beneath the Fade's dark blade and up to one knee, his sword flashing out to take one of its legs off at mid-thigh. The Myrddraal snarled, its blade sweeping out as it fell – and another blade interposed itself like quicksilver, parried the dark sword away and then Ellyth's odd new Warder was there, stamping his boot energetically onto the supine Myrddraal's face. The face-stamping went on for a time, then with a final crunch the Shadowspawn ceased its twitching.

"Eurgh!" exclaimed Shrina, with a shudder.

The Shieldman grinned toothily at her. "Sorry Shrinalla Sedai, but there is something about Shadowmen that brings out the beast in me!" A gloved hand helped Thaeus to his feet and he nodded politely. "Undercut of the Torrent is good sword-form for winning a duel and you perform it well – but duelling Myrddraal is not like duelling man – stay on your feet, should you!"

Thaeus blinked, then nodded. "I shall remember that. They certainly seem to take some killing. It was my first Myrddraal, though not my last by the looks of it…" His eyes narrowed and he nodded behind them. Shrina and the Shieldman turned to see three more Myrddraal crawling over the parapet, drawing their dark blades. Thaeus and the Shieldman raised their own swords and started forward… but Shrina had other ideas.

"We don't have time for that!" and she drew down the lightning that lurked in the grey sky above. The jagged bolts leapt from one Fade to another in a fearsomely destructive chain-reaction… Shrina sagged a little, leaning against Thaeus' shoulder… that had been rather a lot of lightning, even for her… she was feeling distinctly strained by her exertions. Thaeus shifted his weight on his leg a little, wincing, and Shrina glanced down – there was a shallow cut just above his knee.

"Honestly!" she snapped, "not again – lower your britches!"

"Is that necessary?" Thaeus wondered as she tugged insistently at his belt.

"You don't want to end up with a bit of cloth in the wound. Do as I say!"

Thaeus shrugged and complied, whilst Shrina knelt beside his bare legs – he had fine, well-turned calves, she noted – frowning angrily and squinting at the cut, which was deep, weeping copious amounts of blood down his leg. Already, the edges of the wound were going dark. Shrina seized his knee and cast a Healing weave, watching as the edges of the cut closed, the bleeding abating. He was left with a small, pale scar. Well, she was no Yellow… and a man should have a few scars, especially a pretty fellow like Ellyth's brother, why, his legs were smooth and well-shaped as…

"May I pull my britches back up now, Shrina?" Thaeus was smiling down at her. Shrina blinked and released his knee. "We are heavily outnumbered it would seem," he mused further, whilst pulling up his britches and buckling his belt, "and since flight seems our best and only option, it will be easier for me to flee the enemy when my britches are not about my ankles, yes?"

The Shieldman had been watching, he chuckled at this. Thaeus smiled. Shrina flushed and took Thaeus' hand as he helped her up, then winced, rubbing at her temples as her head began to pound… it was just not fair that a man should have a smile like that…

"That about does it for Channelling," Shrina muttered, blinking the spots out of her eyes, "wish I had an angreal."

"Thank-you for Healing me yet again," Thaeus said, in concert with a rather smooth bow, managing to retain his hold on her fingers whilst he did, as though performing the first movement in a court dance. Well, she had had to Heal him, a Thakan'dar blade wound could kill in hours if one didn't amputate the leg (and she liked his legs attached to his slim hips, thank you!) though if it had been an ordinary blade then he could have just bloody bandaged it for all she cared!

Shrina retrieved her hand and employed it in giving Thaeus a hard swat on the rump. "Just see to it that it doesn't happen again!" she snapped, "wear armour or something!"

Thaeus grinned, as did the Shieldman, before turning back to regard the three smoking Myrddraal corpses and chuckling further.

"What are you laughing about?" Shrina demanded.

The Shieldman raised a gloved finger – she didn't know what shimmering material those gauntlets were made of but there was no sign that the Myrddraal's blade had sliced through – and pointed at the three she had used lightning (a bit too much lightning!) to destroy. "Them, Shrinalla Sedai. The way their hair all stood up on end. Amusing, it was!" He resumed his chuckles, Thaeus joining in. Shrina scowled. Grown men? They were more like little boys!

"Aes Sedai?" said a voice, just behind her shoulder. Shrina jumped, turned, looked, and jumped again. It was the tall Aielman with the red-gold hair… the big scar across his face… and the horrid-looking glass eye! The Shieldman glared at him.

"What do you here, Cohradin? Told you to keep eye on the Mistress, did I!"

"I did keep my eye on her, Nightwatcher, I kept it on the Aes Sedai very closely… until she commanded me not to." Cohradin shrugged. "It seems that she does not care for the feel of my new, red eye upon her…" a note of wonder entered his voice, "…it would seem further that even the Aes Sedai find unnerving the fearsome gaze of red-eyed Cohradin of the Sovin-"

"Never mind that! Do you feel those tremors?" Cohradin nodded. "That means it is time to go!"

"Indeed," Cohradin agreed, "this is why the other, shorter, Aes Sedai sent me to fetch you. (Though I think me that she misliked the stare of my one red eye also.)"

Shrina fervently agreed with the sentiment of leaving and started for the steps but faltered… the Shieldman was not following. He sniffed the air, then waved her on.

"Go, Shrinalla Sedai. There are more Myrddraal coming." He grinned. "I will give them pause."

Ellyth watched Cohradin race back toward the rock-face, her feathery brows drawn down with concern. Where were they? They had been gone too long.

Renn was talking, mostly to herself. "That Aielman with the unpleasant-looking glass eye… I'm sure he is the fellow that I saw… well, that the eagle saw… some Aielwomen were hitting him with sticks… most odd."

Ellyth did not trouble to ask Renn to elucidate, going over to the boat instead. The dark-skinned old man was still sitting there, calmly puffing on his pipe, Ellyth presumed him to be a sailor. He did not look up as she went through the items stacked there. Amidst the Aiel's blankets and a long bag that Naythan had stuffed full of things – she could see his fiddle-case poking out of the top – she located her saddlebags. Digging to the bottom, she found a circular item, wrapped carefully in a handkerchief. She withdrew and unwrapped it, before approaching Jabal, who was loitering at Renn's side, making plucking motions at her cloak, despite getting his tattooed hands irritably slapped away. He had thoroughly approved of Shrina's brusque command that they return to the ship, but they had not, so there it was.

Jabal blinked, looking down at the worn brass case that had been thrust into his hand. He pushed the knob in the side with his thumb and the lid sprang open, revealing a needle pointing steadily north.

"I took good care of it Jabal Gaidin, and did not allow it to fall into the un-tattooed hands of your Clan's mercantile competitors, yes?"

Jabal smiled, closing the lid and tucking the compass into his waist-coat pocket. He was in his usual bare-chested state, Ellyth noted, briefly recollecting the hard, muscular chest she had pressed herself against earlier, and flushed.

"Thank-you, Ellyth Sedai. Though the compass was a gift, now that I think of it, I did not expect you to return it-"

"Then you may look on it as a gift back. A gift for you and your Aes Sedai…" Renn blinked at her, owlishly. Ellyth smiled thinly. "A wedding gift, yes?"

Renn's mouth dropped open. "Who told you?" she demanded.

"Dear Atual did."

Renn glared angrily at Jabal. "You are such a terrible gossip!" she exclaimed.

As Manda ran fleetly back to the landing, the howls of the Trollocs diminishing, her empty quiver bumping against her hip, she could not help but glance back for another admiring glance over her shoulder. The Warder running at her heels was a very handsome fellow, she considered. Such lovely dark hair, like silk. But she suspected that he belonged to one or other of these new Aes Sedai who had arrived here in the ship-thing.

Manda gulped a little as her eyes moved ahead and she scrambled over a last boulder behind Jahdi, down to the small stretch of beach. The long, narrow hull beneath a single wooden pole, like a tree shorn of its branches – she thought these 'sailormen' called them 'masts' – looked a little better than the raft… but only a little… surely Vron'cor would not want them to go with him in that? Gerom and Chassin were scrambling over boulders to their left, joining them on the beach, followed by… Manda stared.

"Another one!" she exclaimed. Jahdi stared also, the Maidens watching whilst the twin Warders clasped hands briefly. Jahdi's fingers flickered.

think of the possibilities!

Manda returned her salacious grin, began to respond, but then she lowered her hands, her face going blank. Jahdi gave her a flat look, then joined Gerom and Chassin. Manda had remembered that she and Jahdi were not speaking to each other at the moment, not even with their fingers. Not after that last remark concerning the flatness of her bottom! Manda knew it to be nicely rounded, the Gleeman had said so had he not, as had Metlin the silversmith as well as various other men, it was not flat!

Another Warder had joined the two identical pretty fellows – they looked alike as two lentils! Just like those two stupid Eagle-Brothers back at Wet Sands, Jassim and Yassim, though a deal prettier. The other Warder was one of the Sea Folk by the looks of him, it would be well to have one of them 'aboard' since it seemed they would be travelling thus…

Manda swallowed again at the thought of voyaging over the waves, then glanced over her shoulder. No sign of the Trollocs yet, they had not seemed to have an Eyeless with them and were hanging back… cowards! The song of battle pounding in her veins had been all the incentive Manda had ever needed to make her veil herself and go running willingly to the Dance of the Spears… she had no need of a Myrddraal with a whip to make her recall her duty!

The Sea Folk Warder was a handsome fellow too, if as short as Chassin. The pretty pair were looking worried, brows drawn down over those lovely dark eyes… they had very long eyelashes… "Where is Shrina?" they demanded of the Sea Folk Warder, speaking at the same time! Just like Jassim and Yassim always did, though their voices were gruff and not near so melodic.

"She is yet up there," the dark-skinned fellow responded, pointing the finger of one of his tattooed hands above, and the twin Warders turned and grimly started for where the rope and ladder hung against the stone… but then, three figures appeared, racing down the steps… the tall Aes Sedai and the handsome fair-headed fellow she had seen earlier, and…

Manda scowled. Too much to hope that they would leave Cohradin behind on this forsaken rock! He still would not tell them what their toh was to be, only that they should stop cutting their hair as they must grow it longer in order to meet their obligation. Jahdi might be a sneaking cat and a trull with coarse hair but she was not wrong when it came to Cohradin – he most definitely was a pig! A beast of the wetlands that they had seen grunting in its 'sty' when they had been borrowing things from one of those wetland farms… the ill-tasting ice-peppers… yes, Cohradin much resembled this 'swine' if not physically then in what passed for his character. Pig!

Manda watched as the Aes Sedai tied up her skirts and descended the ladder with swift grace whilst the handsome blonde fellow – was he her Warder too? How many did Aes Sedai have? – and the ugly, scarred, irritating Knife Hand slid swiftly down the rope. Then, to either side, howling Trollocs appeared, scrambling over rocks. A Myrddraal paced behind each mob, striking at them with a whip.

The others came running back from the boat, and the Sea Folk Warder drew a wicked, ivory-hilted blade – Manda was unsure if it was a short sword or a long knife – from his sash. Manda smoothly pulled a spear from behind her bow harness – but then, a reddish-yellow wall of flame leapt into being, incinerating the Shadow-twisted in the front ranks and making the others press back. Looking to her right, Manda saw another wall of flame, this one reddish-orange, the colour of Ellythia Desiama's fires and looking back at the boat saw that both she and the short, pale-haired Aes Sedai were staring intently at the walls, which extended from the boiling, bubbling sea to the cliff on either side, making a safe corridor down which the tall, red-haired Aes Sedai with the dark skin came running, the blonde fellow and Cohradin at her heels.

The sea-mount was shaking and shifting a little, Manda thought, she could feel tremors in the stones beneath her soft-booted feet. Trollocs gathered behind the fiery walls, gnashing their teeth and snarling, cruel, barbed weapons raised. Cohradin grinned at them and waved tauntingly. There were a great many of them back there behind the flames.

"What are you two still doing here?" the red-headed Aes Sedai demanded of her Sisters, "I told you to go back to the ship!"

"Stop acting like you're the bloody Captain-General, Shrina!" responded the short Aes Sedai absently, staring at the yellow-red flames, "it's a good job we stayed… now make yourself useful and get all of the Aiel and Warders and whatnot into the boat."

This 'Shrina' scowled, then began to shoo them toward the beached craft as though they were chickens.

Ellythia Desiama spoke, her voice sounding strained as she squinted intently at the orange-red wall of flame. "Wait, we cannot go yet… where is Naythan?"

Using the blade in a single gloved fist, N'aethan performed a neat amputation on the pale hand holding the dark blade that lunged for his face, and then opened the Shadowman from crotch to throat whilst his un-gloved hand darted past the ward of the creature's 'brother.' It had always annoyed him that Myrddraal called each other that. Well, that was the last of them… fighting a half-dozen normally tested his skills, as it had on that night he had learned the new song, but with his leg yet half-healed, taking on the six who had come up the cliff in the wake of their fellows had tested him to his limits. More tremors from beneath, getting stronger… definitely time to go…

N'aethan dropped the black heart he was holding carelessly, wiping his hand clean on a dark cloak, his sword also, before sheathing both weapons, then noted the shocklance he had left leaning against the parapet. He had expended much of the charge on the rafts, but had best not leave it behind… he retrieved it, attaching it to the weapon clip on the belt he wore beneath the sword belt, so that it swung on his left hip to balance the sword on his right… he yet had his Brother's axe strapped to his back. He had wondered whether to leave it here, but no. It was Elder Brother's axe, not his, it belonged in his tomb… though his bones did also and they were not there. But though it had escaped a very long time ago by the looks of it, there might yet be a Gholam loose in the world… and he would rather face it with the original Weapon than the one Father had made.

It was then that six more Myrddraal appeared, and it began to rain fire.

The twin walls of flame quite adequately kept the Shadowspawn at bay… at least, until the fireballs began to rain down upon them. The plumes of dark, destructive fire were being launched from the cliffs to the far side of the sea-mount, arcing up high into the air before looping down toward their position. Renn hastily raised a shield between them and the dark flames which burst against the invisible barrier, whilst Ellyth scowled and sent several of her own fireballs back towards where the attack had originated. If the Kirikil hag wished to play with fire, she would be happy to oblige…

Unfortunately, the defensive and offensive actions of the two young Aes Sedai necessitated dropping the walls of flame. The Shadowspawn surged forward, a small horde of Trollocs converging on the boat, whipped-on by their Myrddraal… and time ran out for them. The Warders and Thaeus had pushed the boat down to the water at the behest of the old man, now they came running back, drawing their blades, whilst the veiled Aiel with raised spears were already flowing forward to meet the Trollocs. Battle was joined in earnest.

Ellyth had just immolated her umpteenth Trolloc when a Fade flowed past the burning, screaming Shadowspawn and lunged for her, dark blade streaking out.

A small figure appeared at Ellyth's side, tugging her out of range of the Thakan'dar-forged steel whilst yanking a heavy, curved blade from his sash – Ellyth stared. It was the gnarled old man from the boat. She had thought him a sailor perhaps – but the sword he brandished had a Heron-mark scored into the steel and he used it like a Master, dancing about the Fade with unusual spryness for one of his years. Four savagely economical cuts and sweeps… and the old man turned away from the Myrddraal, which, bereft of arms and legs, could only lie impotently upon its back and glare up at him with loathing. He grinned at her.

"Best way to deal with such as they – like pulling the wings off a fly," he observed in a harsh, croaking voice, before his dark eyes narrowed. "Now, pretty young Aes Sedai… into the boat with you… hop!" and much to Ellyth's surprise – a surprise too great to allow for anger – he sent her on her way with an authoritative swat on the rump! Shrina helped her into the boat, which the Twins were holding steady, immersed up to their waists amidst the waves. Ellyth risked a glance over her shoulder. The old man was bellowing orders at the Aiel, who were retreating obediently back to the boat in good order, their flickering spearheads discouraging pursuit… he casually disembowelled a Trolloc whilst he did so…

"Who is that old man?" she demanded.

"Who do you think?" Shrina raised her voice; "stop showing-off, grampy! We have to go!" The old man grinned at her briefly, before gutting another Trolloc that had made the mistake of getting too close. Ellyth's dark eyes moved to the cliff summit. Where was Naythan? Renn joined them in the boat, Jabal lifting her in. She looked exhausted.

"Shrina, your grandfather told me to get in the boat and then smacked me on the bottom when I didn't move fast enough!" she complained.

Shrina sighed. "Yes, I'm afraid grandpa is always doing things like that…" She clutched her brow. "My poor head!" she groaned, and then a line of lightning bolts began to march amongst the Shadowspawn ranks under cover of which the reluctant Aiel were herded into the boat by 'grampy' whilst the Warders and Thaeus resumed their places at the oars.

"Wait!"

Well, that was everything. There was a deep cut in his shoulder but he was still alive. Stepping over Shadowmen corpses, some still twitching, N'aethan looked down at the sea. The boat looked rather crowded and was halfway back to the ship, he noted. He could see Ellythia Sedai's pale face in the stern, dark eyes looking up at him. When those fireballs had begun to shoot overhead, he had been very worried, though too busy trying to stay alive amidst a maelstrom of pale, snarling faces and black, stabbing blades to pay too close an attention. The fireballs had seemed to be going the other way too. The abbreviated beach beneath was dark with Beastmen. He sniffed, and frowned.

N'aethan looked over his shoulder, counting the dark garbed pale monsters that flowed over the wall. More Myrddraal! A round dozen of them this time, all warded… the crone must really want him dead! Well, he had given her a good scratching to remember him by – doubtless that made it personal in her beady eyes. She must have sent damn near every Shadowman she had left…

The Myrddraal spread out, drawing their dark blades, waiting for him to come to them. N'aethan did not disappoint them. Raising a hand to the pale figure in the distant boat he turned, and approached the Shadowmen with slow, stalking deliberation. The dozen Myrddraal tensed, preparing. N'aethan smiled as he turned his back on his escaping Aes Sedai, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of the ancient, Power-wrought blade. He hoped that its former owner would approve of his actions, here, at the tomb of another dead Hero… something Heroes all had in common – they were nearly always dead Heroes. Perhaps the only true Hero was a dead one? Dying for others was heroic, after all.

"No!" Ellyth shouted, as she saw Naythan wave and then turn away, his dark silhouette against the sky disappearing from sight. The other Aiel, huddled behind the rowers, had their eyes closed but Cohradin's were fixed on the top of the sea-mount also.

"Nightwatcher…" she heard him mutter, with regret.

Thaeus was rowing, he lifted his head.

"There were more Lurks coming up the cliff… he stayed to hold them off whilst we escaped… he said he would be right behind us…" Her brother was looking at her with concern, though seemed a little stricken himself at their having left one of their number behind. But they had had no choice.

More thick Trolloc arrows whined and hissed about them, occasionally impacting against the shield Renn was weaving from where she knelt in the bow.

"Turn around! We have to go back for him!"

The dozen Myrddraal remained on the plinth, strung in a grouped line between Big Brother's stone feet. They knew what he had done to their Brothers in the past weeks as well as in the past minutes, there were Shadowman corpses aplenty scattered about, after all… and they clearly wished to retain the advantage of a higher position.

N'aethan took several measured steps closer, smiling at the waiting Shadowmen, a man smiling at his own death. Slowly, he began to draw his blade from the worn leather scabbard… the Myrddraal readied themselves, their dark swords lifting… and N'aethan addressed them in the vile Shadow tongue;

"It is a good day to die, Shadow-filth, and where better than here, at the tomb of the Firstborn?" He nodded at the two great eroded lumps of stone. "Those are the feet of my Brother's statue… he was a mighty warrior who knew not fear, but never did he know when he was outnumbered…" N'aethan paused his advance, slammed the sword decisively back into the sheath and grinned.

"Well, I do! 'Bye, Halfmen!" and N'aethan turned in a blur of motion and sprinted hard for the western wall of the sea-mount, his injured leg protesting fiercely… but he had counted the steps carefully and made damn sure it was the foot of his good leg that came down hard on the edge of the parapet, pushing off in a flying leap, twenty feet out from the edge, arms flailing to gain more distance, hopefully enough to clear the abbreviated beach and hit the water, deep water with any luck… though if he did not, there were plenty of Beastmen down there, perhaps one of them would be so good as to cushion his fall?

The Shadowmen had looked vaguely surprised, put-out even, when he had turned and run… had they really thought he was going to try and fight a dozen of them with a bad leg and a wounded shoulder? He was no Hero! He was a Shieldman, and he might only be a humble War-Construct but it did not necessarily follow on from this that he was stupid! At which point, the sea came up to meet him.

Naythan made a very large splash. Ellyth stared at the waves, her heart in her mouth – and then breathed again when that head of pale hair broke the surface, as he struck out for the boat. Overlarge Trolloc arrows rained into the water around him and he submerged, legs kicking, disappearing beneath the seawater… and did not reappear again. The Warders and Thaeus had stilled the oars and the fireballs had ceased to rain down upon them. "No…" Ellyth whispered. When Naythan had appeared, making his incredible, death-defying leap, her heart had equally leapt with joy, she had been convinced that she had lost her second Warder… how long could he hold his breath? She felt grief begin to well up within her again.

Then, Naythan's head broke the surface right before her, his gloved hands settling on the stern of the long rowing boat next to the rudder. He shook his head briskly, showering her with water, but she did not care.

"Naythan!" Not caring either that it further dampened her already damp dress, Ellyth threw her arms about his shoulders, pressing her cheek to his. For a moment she brushed her lips against his ear… and felt his lips brush her cheek in turn. "Thank the Creator…" Ellyth knelt back, noted that Shrina was staring at her with interest, and flushed. She tried to pull Naythan into the boat but he shook his head.

"No room." He began to kick his legs, adding to the impetus of the resumed rowing.

"I thought that you were going to stay behind, to guard the gate like dear Atual did," she was babbling, uncaring in her relief.

Naythan grinned and shook his head. "Father said I must stay close to the Finder of the Key. That is you, Mistress!"

Ellyth smiled, then noted Shrina eyeing her shrewdly, and flushed again. Shrina grinned.

Then, the beach, and the Shadowspawn infesting it, abruptly exploded.

N'aethan had not been sailing in an Age – literally! – but had always enjoyed travelling over the water by means of the wind. This black-hulled ship was much like the yachts on Lake Xiril that he remembered, single-masted and narrow… it looked fast. After ensuring that his Aes Sedai and the other Aes Sedai were safely aboard, he followed, pulling himself up the ladder, his good foot hopping from one wooden rung to another, his bad leg trailing. He had a feeling that his exertions had set him back a little on the road to recovery, but he should be right as rain in a day or two. Water flowed copiously from his clothing as he stood upright on the deck, swaying a little, adjusting his stance to the motion of the waves… it would not take long for him to get his sea-legs back, it never did.

Meanwhile, the short, dark, gnarled old man who had held the tiller was bellowing orders in a harsh, croaky voice.

"Oilfishers, set the mainsail!" The identical twin Warders swarmed up the mast, about which the Shaido were squatting on their heels, clutching their spears with white knuckles and looking disgruntled.

"Atha'an Miere, take your station!" The dark-skinned Warder with the tattooed hands leapt to a large, spoked wheel, set up on a kind of abbreviated quarterdeck. They certainly seemed to follow the old fellow's orders with alacrity, there was no doubt who was Captain of this ship…

"Whitecloak, attend to the bowsprit!" The young, fair-haired fellow who was Ellythia Sedai's brother, though did not look like her, was already making his way forward to the long pole, stepping over various Aiel to do so… the old man regarded them with disfavour.

"Aielmen! And women too… bad luck!" He nodded to a hatch set in the deck behind the mast. "You're in the way – cargo belongs down there!" The Shaido did not argue, seemed only too glad to shift the hatch and venture below-decks, away from the unpleasant sight of the sea, meek as lambs – they clearly knew who the Captain was also! N'aethan grinned. The three young Aes Sedai were grouped behind the wheel and appeared to be bickering with each other… which left only…

"You, with the funny eyes… what are you bloody grinning at me like that for, fellow?" the Captain demanded of him, "you look like the flaming Chachin Cat!"

N'aethan adopted a more solemn mien. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?" he enquired, politely.

"You already are aboard and I'm no Captain – Sailmaster, call me!"

"Yes Sailmaster," N'aethan responded deferentially, then jerked a thumb at the boat bobbing below. "Should bring aboard?" There were davits at the stern, but it would be a difficult operation to perform alone…

"No time for that," the Sailmaster growled, whipping the sword from his sash and chopping through the painter. The rowing boat drifted away, back toward the sea-mount where a whirlpool was forming about the shattered base, coruscating light flashing in its depths. "In fact, while I hate to leave a perfectly good anchor behind…"

N'aethan was way ahead of him. "Will stand ready to cut cable on your command, Sailmaster," he affirmed, limping over to the chain leading from the capstan down into the water. The old man nodded with perhaps a hint of grudging approval.

"You've got bloody strange eyes but you've worked the waves before at least," he muttered laconically, before stumping up to the quarterdeck whilst bellowing a fresh string of orders.

Cohradin's head poked up out of the hatch. "Vron'cor, it is dark down here and there is a bad smell," he complained. N'aethan grinned, stripping off his sopping wet coat and draping it over the capstan.

"Will make a sailor out of you yet, Cohradin!" he assured the Shaido.

Cohradin frowned, but stayed where he was, shading his eyes.

"That Shadow-running Lost One is up there," he commented, "he is looking at us." N'aethan took a length of anchor chain in his hands and glanced over his shoulder at the small figure up at the top of the sea-mount, cold blue eyes staring down at the ship. The Friend of the Dark who had taught him the new song! The ballad about the wind that shook the willow. So he sang it loudly, whilst waving sarcastically. Cohradin joined-in with the waving, if not the singing.

N'aethan could see the powerful, thick weaves of air forming above, the nimbus of light unfolding about the three Aes Sedai – they had linked and Shrinalla Sedai was in control, casting the wind webs as the twin Warders dropped a black sail from the yardarm, belling with wind, the ship surging forward…

"Cut the cable!" roared the Sailing-Master. N'aethan strained, the veins standing out in his forearms, a link bending – and the thick chain snapped, the end attached to the submerged anchor rattling down through the hawse-hole and as though a hound released from a tether, the ship sprang forward. They were away! Safe.

No, not quite. A shrieking and flapping from above, bat-winged shadows across the sun, and then, the Draghkar were upon them. A great many Draghkar.

"Release us!" Ellyth demanded of Shrina, who was still using she and Renn as though they were a pair of angreal! Not that it had not been pleasant, to link with her Sisters who were also, in a very real sense, her sisters… to feel Renn's calm certainty and Shrina's fiery determination through the temporary bond that made them one, to draw strength and comfort from two much-loved friends and have them do the same from her – but there were a host of Draghkar descending upon them, and Shrina had not broken the link, leaving she and Renn as helpless as babes!

"Shrina!"

"No time!" shouted Shrina above the shrieks of the attacking Draghkar – who at least were not singing – and Ellyth felt saidar flow through her and into Shrina as lightning crackled above and charred, Shadow-twisted monstrosities fell into the sea.

Renn scowled, grabbing Shrina's sleeve, tugging it up and plucking the slim, wicked dagger from the hidden sheath they both knew Shrina wore there. Renn turned, aiming a swipe at a Draghkar as it swooped past, missing its wing by a hands-breadth. Ellyth frowned. She really ought to carry a knife herself…

"Where is your sword?"

"Down in the cabin… didn't think I'd need it… hah!" Shrina's eyes were on the sky… with a wicked flash of her teeth, eyes lighting up, she sent more jagged forks of lightning surging through the Draghkar that flocked above and more misshapen forms tumbled into the waves.

Ellyth scowled, wishing she could break the link – Shrina always hogged control of such bonds when they formed them! – and then remembered that she was not unarmed after all, and reached into her belt pouch… she had forgotten to give it back to Naythan…

A half-dozen Draghkar landed on the quarterdeck rail, clinging with clawed hands and feet. Keeping his eyes firmly on the treacherous, rock-strewn waters ahead, Jabal swept his blade from his sash, half-decapitating the closest with one hand whilst continuing to spin the wheel deftly with the other. Shrina's unusual grandparent accounted for two more with the same stroke of his heavy, curved blade whilst Renn kept another at bay with inexpert yet vigorous sweeps of Shrina's dagger.

The remaining two Draghkar lunged at Ellyth. She gave the stud in the heavy, braided handle a firm push and the dull silver blade shot out. Scowling murderously, she slashed the nearest Draghkar across its gaunt face, a thin black line appearing in the pale skin over its jaw. The creature uttered a rending shriek, clutching a clawed hand to its face, then collapsed onto the deck at her feet in a boneless, leather-winged heap, stone dead. The other Draghkar paused, regarding her with fear and astonishment, but only for a moment, time enough for 'grandpa' to pull his blade from the twitching body of the Draghkar Renn had been confronting, to neatly take the remaining creature's head off. He glanced at the unusual, Gholam-killing knife.

"What kind of poison do you put on that?" he wondered, before his dark eyes moved past her to the deck below. "My! That Warder of yours is a handy fellow!"

Ellyth looked and could only agree. "He most certainly is," she said, feeling proud of Naythan, feeling other emotions concerning him also… all mixed with a fair amount of confusion… what was she thinking of? They were in the middle of a bloody battle! She scowled. "And I do not utilise poison, I am no assassin of the Shadow, Master Tolamani!"

"Aw! Call me 'grandpa!' "

Dark blood rained on N'aethan from above and whilst bringing his boot down firmly on the thin neck of the Draghkar at his feet, more feeling than hearing the snap of bone as the rest of the Sirens were shrieking so loudly, he glanced up, smiling. The twin Warders were up there, each facing a different way, their backs to the mast, booted feet propped on the yardarm, each reaching back with one hand to grip his brother's belt, holding each other firmly on their precarious perch whilst using the other hand to set their slim blades in a whirling, defensive pattern, from which no Draghkar who strayed too close escaped unscathed. The young Thaeus fellow up beside the bowsprit was using a similar form though two-handed, his feet set to either side of the brief mast that extended from the bow, keeping the whirling Draghkar at bay, though occasionally snapping into a lunge, his blade returning dark with blood.

The Shaido had swarmed back up from below, veiling themselves as they did so, and were lining the rail to either side, stabbing with spears and expending their few remaining arrows. Cohradin was grinning, and calling out a number each time his bowstring snapped and a Draghkar went tumbling into the sea. One of the creatures landed on the deck behind him – without troubling to look, Cohradin swept the elbow of his drawing hand viciously back, impacting the Draghkar's throat with a crunch of cartilage, before nocking another of Tevin's arrows to the string.

Which left N'aethan. Using his good leg, he sprang up to stand upon the capstan, pulling Elder Brother's Howling-Axe from his back. The four silver blades shone, reflecting the sunlight. Grinning, he began to whirl it over his head… and the Draghkar shrieked and covered their ears and fell from the lightning-filled sky.

Ellyth sagged against the rail amidships. The last of the Draghkar corpses were being tipped over the side, the shaking sea-mount surrounded by swirling light at the base diminishing in their wake. Renn was bustling about Healing those who needed it, no one had been seriously harmed but there were a fair amount of claw wounds distributed amongst the Warders and the Aiel. Shrina was engaged in exuberantly kissing her 'boys' which she always did after they had come through danger together. Master Tolamani – who she absolutely refused to call 'grandpa!' – was watching this display of affection darkly, she noted.

Thaeus joined her and Ellyth gave her brother a warm hug. "It is very good to see you," she murmured, "for all that you are a little beast, yes?"

Thaeus grinned. "Yes! It is good to see you also, beloved sister… though I suppose that you had not looked for us?"

"For any of you! How came you here?"

Thaeus shrugged and moved over to the rail, helping Naythan tip the last corpse into the sea. "Thereby hangs a long tale," he muttered, "and one I will let your Sisters tell to you, I think, as they are probably itching to, yes?" Thaeus grinned back at her; "but it involves a Horn!"

Ellyth gaped, then after a single glance at Naythan, heavy with meaning – though quite what meaning she was yet unsure – she started for the quarterdeck, trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation of the deck moving beneath her slippered feet, and the effect this motion was having on her stomach. In all the excitement, she had quite forgot how much she loathed travelling by-

At this point, her train of thought was rather abruptly interrupted when the distant sea-mount exploded. All eyes turned in the direction of their wake at the enormous booming noise, even Jabal's before Shrina's objectionable old grandfather barked at him to "mind his heading." The sea-mount that had hidden the mysterious tomb of Naythan's brother was simply… gone, just an expanse of boiling water slowly dissipating. Then, the stones began to fall all around, pebble-dashing the sea to either side.

As the rocks rained down, Renn quickly raised a shield of Air over the ship, though not quite quickly enough – a blur of movement at Ellyth's side and Naythan was there, arm raised protectively over her – and caught neatly in his gloved hand, a chunk of pale rock that would surely have brained her! Further missiles from above were deflected harmlessly from Renn's shield and they continued on their way, skirting the final submerged rocks and steering south.

"Thank-you, Gaidin," Ellyth murmured, "it would not have done to escape that accursed place," she nodded at World's End, with a shiver of gratitude that she was finally free of it, "and yet fall prey to a rock!"

Naythan grinned, tossing the chunk of white stone into the air and catching it neatly. "A piece of Elder Brother's statue," he commented, "I will keep." He tucked it into a pocket.

Ellyth regarded him somewhat suspiciously. "I would assume that there is some reason why your father's 'secret place' is now at the bottom of the sea, yes?" What had he and Shrina done down there?

Thaeus joined them, eyeing Naythan curiously, and when he did not answer, said; "there was a deep pool of the One Power, the male half, saidin in liquid form…"

Ellyth's eyes widened. "What did you do?"

Naythan shrugged. "Threw a rock in a pond, did I," he observed, "made some ripples that got bigger… and bigger… and bigger even than that."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ellyth demanded crossly.

"A ter'angreal,a special rock that needs all five Powers to initiate the chain-reaction… the whirlpool effect… something Father told me to do if it ever looked like the Shadow would take his secret place from him – he would be dead by this point, assumed he, so left the task of it to Middle Brother and I." Naythan smiled grimly. "The crone will not steal Father's secrets now. Hit by a lump of rock was she, hope I!"

Ellyth blinked, then sighed. Naythan! She only ever seemed to find out about what he was doing long after he had actually bloody done it! Further questions would clearly be to no avail, so she decided to move on to another topic of enquiry.

"Excuse me Naythan Gaidin, brother, I must confer with my Sisters concerning a certain… Horn." As she glided away, sure-footed enough for all that she was beginning to feel a little queasy, she overheard Thaeus mutter;

"You move very fast, Shieldman! You jump like a grasshopper also, yes?"

"Sin'aethan Shadar Cor has many accomplishments. You would like to hear him play the fiddle?"

Ellyth shook her head, re-ascending one of the short flights of steps that lay to either side of the low door to the cabin that nestled beneath the quarterdeck. 'Grandpa' had made it quite clear that only the Sail-Master (himself) the Helmsman (Jabal, presumably) and Aes Sedai were permitted on this raised section of deck and had already chased Cohradin off it twice. He did not seem to care for having the Aiel aboard and clearly wished them to remain below-decks with the rest of the cargo! Ellyth paused on the last step, her dark gaze drifting back to the cabin door as that familiar, itching sensation awoke in her mind… there was a ter'angreal in there, she was sure of it, a very old and powerful one… surely not?

Shrina had ceased canoodling with the Twins for the time being and was returning to the quarterdeck via the other set of steep wooden steps – she paused also and they regarded each other across the intervening space.

"Well?" Ellyth demanded.

"Well what?" Shrina responded.

"Did you find it?"

"Find what?"

"Your silly Horn of Valere, of course!"

Shrina flushed.

"I am still rather annoyed with you about that by the way, though I suppose your rescuing me from almost certain death mitigates the offence somewhat, yes? But really! How long have we been friends, Shrina? Waiting until I was sent away to Heal sick cows and then just sneaking off like a thief in the night, without a word of explanation or goodbye-"

"I wrote you a note! Or did Renn forget to give it to you? I'll bet she did…"

"Well?" Ellyth demanded, sticking to her catapults, "did you find it or not?"

"No!" Shrina wailed across to her, "I found another bloody Horn, the Horn of Th- Pth- well anyway, it doesn't summon Heroes, just confusing oddly-dressed folk who… well, at least they told me where you were, Ellyth…"

"Well…" Ellyth smiled. "In that case, I suppose that I can forgive you for deserting me." Shrina smiled back and they ascended the rest of the steps and moved to meet each other for a formal embrace, just behind where Jabal stood at the wheel, Renn with her arm about him. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the sight of her friends kissing each other on the cheek.

"I am sorry that I didn't tell you about the wedding," Renn added, "I would have loved to have you both as my Maids of Honour… not that Shrina is exactly a 'maiden' of course…" Shrina scowled "…but it was all supposed to be a secret! I didn't want my mother to find out… or the Mother…" she frowned up at Jabal, "but someone blabbed to all his Warder friends!" Jabal did not seem to notice her ire, he was whistling softly to himself while he held the wheel steady, seemed happy to be upon the waves, his native element.

"Well, the Twins told me," Shrina stated.

"And dear Atual told me…" Ellyth blinked. "Hold, what do you mean, another Horn? How many are there?"

"Three! There is a silver one too, apparently… mine is bronze, though. Do you want to see it?"

Ellyth nodded and the three of them went below, to the small cabin beneath the quarterdeck. Shrina nodded at the narrow bunk.

"I've had to share that with Renn every night, and she snores!"

"I do not! And you keep jabbing me with your pointy elbows, Shrina!"

Ellyth winced, wondering how the three of them were to fit in the bunk. There was an ornate gold chest covered in silver chasework set at the foot of it.

Shrina pushed her thumbs against the lid of the chest but nothing happened. "Oh, you do it Renn, I can never remember the right way to…" Shrina crawled up onto the bunk and Renn took her place. A few deft touches against the decorative whorls and the lid sprang open.

Ellyth watched from by the door as Renn reached inside and withdrew a curled huntsman's horn cast in age-darkened bronze.

"That is a ter'angreal," she stated, definitively.

"We know!"

"Shrina, your Warders persist in stating their observations simultaneously, but should you and Renn commence this irritating practice then I believe that I shall promptly throw myself into the sea, yes?" Ellyth's tone was frosty, but not without a certain measure of irony.

Renn grinned, frowned as Shrina rudely snatched the Horn from her hands, then grinned further. "Oh Ellyth, I have missed your sense of humour!"

"If not the constant 'yessing,' " Shrina added absently, tucking her legs beneath her and regarding the Horn in her hands with a curious mixture of pride and disappointment. Ellyth scowled, but Shrina obliviously added, "that strapping new Warder of yours called me 'Hornsounder' just like Ghoetam always does… and he did an odd bow, made the scary-looking red-eyed Aielman bow too… seemed to regard me as being rather important…"

Ellyth's scowl darkened. "Strapping?"

Shrina blithely continued; "…perhaps it isn't the Horn of Valere, but even so… perhaps it isn't all bad, being the Sounder of the Horn of Pth- Thp-"

"T'oph," Renn helpfully supplied, pronouncing it perfectly.

"Yes… that…" Shrina raised her gaze and grinned wolfishly. "I know – I'll give it a good hard blow, then Ellyth can meet the Sages too!"

"Shrina!" Renn objected with exasperation, "you can't keep sounding it whenever you feel like it, it's disrespectful!"

"Pah!"

"Besides, this is a rather small boat-"

"Ship!"

"-and I don't think there would be room for them all…"

Ellyth blinked, then sighed and sat down next to Shrina, trying to ignore the encroaching queasiness that the motion of the waves was engendering in her lower abdomen. Renn flipped the lid closed and seated herself on the ornate golden chest.

"Start from the beginning."

So they did.

Part II : The Horn

The Towers of the Watchers loomed above them, grim and grey.

Renn had just finished telling her story to Shrina…

"Well, fair enough, I suppose, that Lord Wakime should want to kill Roth. And he said he was going to write a nice song, that fat-headed liar! But that still doesn't explain how you got to Falme so fast, or what you're even doing here!"

"Um…"

"Oh, never mind all that! Well, here we are… the Towers of the Watchers." Shrina gestured expansively at the towering stone edifices that seemed to grow from the cliffs, so that it was hard to tell where granite rock-face ended and ancient stonework began. The circuitous path Shrina had taken led to an impressive set of wooden gates, somewhat war-damaged, which stood open on a solemn courtyard hacked out of the cliff, overlooked by narrow windows and carved colonnades. The towers soared overhead.

Shrina sighed. "Wish I could afford an inn… the bloody place only seems to have got more depressing in my absence, and grandpa certainly doesn't approve of the Twins and me!" She glanced at the flagstones that echoed hollowly beneath their horse's hooves. Traces of dark, dried blood were still evident between them. She shuddered.

Renn glanced at the stains also. "Is that blood?" she enquired distractedly, before looking down toward Falme, the battered town spread out below them.

Shrina nodded grimly. "The Seanchan bleed like everyone else," she muttered, hoping – not for the first time – that her grandfather wouldn't do something violent to the Twins… some hope! It had been more than ten years, but grandpa hadn't changed a bit!

Falme was still in chaos when they arrived, the streets full of panicked refugees, frightened to stay but too scared to leave. The harbour was jammed with wrecked, bluff-bowed ships, but Shrina was pleased to note that there were a few brightly painted fishing craft out – it would take Tarmon Gai'don itself to make a Falman put down his nets!

Shrina turned A'vron up the Tower Hill, the Twins to either side, hands on hilts, scanning the crowds with wary suspicion. Thaeus heeled his roan gelding toward the harbour.

"Where are you going, your Lordship?" Shrina demanded, over her shoulder.

"To buy drinks for talkative types," was his cool response. They had passed the place where the Legion of Whitecloaks had fought and died against the invaders. Shrina supposed Thaeus wished to find out if he been the only survivor…

"Well, present yourself for dinner later," she commanded, "the Do Miere A'vron shall not turn you away – we are a hospitable folk!"

Thaeus grinned back at her and made a saluting gesture, which looked a little odd without a helmet, then trotted away. Shrina smiled, then noticed that the Twins were eyeing her. "What?"

One of the gates was hanging askew at the Tower courtyard and signs of fighting – discarded, broken spears and spent arrows – littered the cobbles. Gory drag-marks indicated the removal of corpses.

Shrina dismounted and led A'vron through the gate, embracing the Source and holding her sword at the ready for good measure. The Twins drew their own blades and attempted to push past her and take the lead, getting tangled with each other in the process. There were strangely armoured men inside – undoubtedly these 'Shornshan' – but they did not look like monsters. In fact, hands bound roughly behind them, kneeling in a long line, the bruised, dirty soldiers looked simply defeated. A dozen were still alive, several more were dead. They were being guarded by a score of short, stocky men with dark skin, wearing black sheepskin coats, each with an eye above the waves emblazoned on the back, loose black trews tucked into boots. They held straight blades and wicked barbed spears as though they knew how to use them. Which they did.

More signs of fierce fighting marred the courtyard and an old but spry man, thin wisps of white hair still clinging tenaciously around his ears, finished carefully wiping his curved, heron-mark blade clean, before taking a step along the line of captured soldiery and raising the gleaming, razor-sharp sword on high.

"May the Storm-father take you, Invader," he rasped uncompromisingly in a gravelly, cracked voice, before sweeping the blade down and neatly beheading the prisoner. The head tumbled at his feet, the body, spraying blood, slumped forward.

"Grandpa!" shouted Shrina, shocked, "what are you doing?!"

The old man grinned with yellow-toothed delight. "Vixen!" he roared, then scowled. "What does it look like I'm doing? One moment…" He gave the blade another wipe, took a step, and neatly decapitated another of the bound soldiers with a grunt of effort.

"Grandpa! They're prisoners! I know they've done some beastly things but… you can't just execute them!"

"I am Ashoka Tolamani, Master of the Watch… I can do whatever I want!" Grandpa lowered the heavy, curved blade, flicking the blood from it so that it spattered onto the flagstones to join the spreading pool at his feet. "Carry on, second." He tossed the sword to a younger Watcher, the tallest, built like a bull, who caught the heron-marked hilt deftly and grinned at Shrina.

"Hello coz," he called cheerfully, "nice to have you back!" then glided smoothly forward to take off another head with a powerful, two-handed blow.

"Hello Thanakah," responded Shrina weakly, then sheathed her sword, put her hands on her hips and regarded her grandfather with extreme disapproval as he paced towards her. "Really, grandfather, this is barbaric behav-eee!"

The old man swept Shrina up in a hug, spinning her in a circle, before planting a smacking kiss on her cheek. "Little vixen!" he shouted, "about time you shifted your pretty behind back to the old place for a visit!"

Shrina hugged her grandfather back, though managed to do so whilst glaring at her cousin, squaring-up behind another prisoner – "it is so good to see you again grampy – what happened to your hair? – but really – Thanakah, stop that! – really, you can't just execute-" the sword sliced down and another headless torso slumped twitching to the flags. "Ahh! Stop it! This is a bloodbath!"

"It bloody well is, vixen," growled grandpa, eyeing the Twins with disfavour. "So these are the two oilfishers you wrote about in your occasional letters, are they?"

"They are my Warders," Shrina responded primly.

"Oh, is that what they call it in Tar Valon?"

"Don't change the subject! How can you-?"

"We're giving them what they wanted! We were going to throw them off the cliff but they demanded death by the sword!"

"Don't be difficult, grampy! And please tell cousin Thanakah to stop beheading people!"

At which point, one of the blank-eyed, stony-faced prisoners looked up and glared at Master Tolamani. "No!" he snapped, "continue with the executions, oath-breaker! The Empress – may she live forever – wills it!" He had a strange, slurred way of speaking.

Grandpa eyed Shrina. "You see, vixen? They want to be executed. Carry on, second, I'm going to show our young vixen the cage."

"What cage?"

"You two stay here!" The Twins glowered but remained in the courtyard whilst grandpa hustled Shrina up some stairs, along a covered colonnade and out onto a balcony overlooking the waves. All of the balconies did, in fact, since watching these waves had been the primary task of the Do Miere A'vron for a thousand years.

"Some home-coming!" Shrina grumbled along the way, "I'm always telling the boys… I mean, my Warders, of the sophistication and civilisation of the Watchers Over the Waves and what is the first thing they see? My own grandfather, separating heads from necks!"

"Hush, little vixen!"

"You mustn't call me that, grampy, I am Aes Sedai now and not your little-"

"Alright! Hush that pouty mouth and look down there, Vixen Sedai!"

Shrina scowled, but leant over the balcony to look in the indicated direction. Some way below, equidistant between stone balustrade and pounding breakers, a small cage hung on a long chain… the disconsolate woman inside was clad in a rather dirty, pleated gown of an odd cut and had a very strange hairstyle.

"Hoy!" shouted grandpa, "are you dead yet, High Lady?"

The woman raised her head with weary resignation, fixing cold blue eyes on them. She did not trouble to answer. Shrina stared.

"High Lady Pharicke, this is my grand-daughter, Shrinalla Tolamani… Aes Sedai!" grandpa called out by way of introductions. The High Lady in the cage scowled.

"It is only fitting that the leader of the oath-breakers – those who watched in vain! – should boast a marath'damane as his kin!" she snarled venomously.

Grandpa cackled at this. "I am but the Watch-Master, and only command what is left of our order because our leaders all died in that cage, the cage that you shall die in," he responded, with vengeful relish.

"What in the waves is going on here?" Shrina was perplexed… noblewomen in cages, warriors demanding to be executed… these Shornshan were all mad!

Grandpa explained. He had been leading the Watch on a patrol of Toman Head to investigate attacks by brigands when the invasion came. "We were too busy expecting trouble to come from the land," he growled disgustedly, "when we should have been watching the sea! Bloody typical, you watch the waves for a thousand years but you're off hunting down outlaws when the flaming armies of the bleeding Hawkwing finally turn up!"

"Grandfather!" Shrina protested, "how can you say such a terrible thing?!"

"Because we were betrayed little vixen! Those Seanchan devils called us 'oath-breakers' and-"

"You are oath-breakers!" snarled the High Lady in the cage.

"Silence, prisoner! They swept in here, treating everyone like dirt, marching all the Healers off in collars, forcing us all to take their oaths to wait and obey… I took 'em myself when I came back to spy-out the enemy – I broke that oath, High Lady, and was glad to do it! No, little vixen, the Hawkwing's 'return' was not what we awaited – it was a big bloody disappointment!"

"Clearly," Shrina drawled, regarding the High Lady with disfavour.

"Wasn't a burning thing we could do," grandpa muttered dolefully, "there were too many of those devils, with their monstrous beasts and their captive Aes Sedai… we lay-up in the woods, ambushed the occasional patrol when there weren't any of those flying things about… then, when it happened, the Horn and the Whitecloaks and the Dragon Reborn up in the sky and all that… well, we took the opportunity…" grandpa raised his voice pointedly, glaring down at the High Lady in the cage, "…to take back what was ours!"

The High Lady sniffed and turned away, staring out to sea as generations of Watchers had done before the Return. "The High Lady there had set-up residence here with her men – bunch of fanatics! They took some killing, I tell you, but your cousin Thanakah and a couple of the other lads scaled the cliff from the seaward side whilst I led the attack on the gates. When they managed to take the High Lady prisoner, those guards of hers threw down their blades and spears and gave themselves up, as meek as lambs… but only on the condition that we chop their heads off! Something to do with failing in their sworn duty… they're as mad as Aielmen, those Seanchan devils!"

Shrina blinked. It was all quite a lot to take in…

The High Lady, though studiously ignoring them, had nonetheless been eavesdropping. "You are fortunate, oath-breaker," she called out in her strange accents, "had there been any Gardeners of the Death Watch Guard assigned to me, it would have been a different story, I assure you."

Shrina scowled down at her. "Are you a Darkfriend?" she enquired.

"Certainly not, marath'damane! Were you properly leashed, I should have you whipped for your insolence, your tongue removed also, perhaps."

"Pity!" responded Shrina, "because if you were a Darkfriend I could guarantee your cage would not react well to a lightning bolt!"

"That's the spirit, little vixen!"

"You up there – cease babbling to your marath'damane kin and throw me down a knife that I might honourably open my veins!"

"Come along," muttered grandpa, "let us speak somewhere more private."

"Yes, these constant interruptions are rather aggravating," Shrina agreed, giving the High Lady a last poisonous glare as they went back down the colonnade.

"They put them in there," grandpa observed mournfully, "all of them, in that filthy cage. The First Watcher, old Balzadar, they dragged him out of his High Chair and sat him in the cage, said he'd Watched for the wrong thing… he lasted a week… tough old bird, he was. Then they chose a new First and it was his turn to go in the cage… if you find the Towers somewhat deserted then it is this practice which is to blame." He scowled grimly. "It was the High Lady's idea, so now it's her turn to sit in the cage. I only wish we'd caught the High Lord Turak…" – Shrina's ears pricked up – "…but when I took the lads down the hill in the aftermath, someone had already got to him first. A better Blademaster than he, I can only presume."

They reached the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The prisoners were all dead, members of the Watch were loading them onto carts. The Twins held the horses, looking up at Shrina enquiringly.

"Warders of the Tower!" her cousin Thanakah was exclaiming while carefully cleaning the heavy, curved blade, "I have always wished to spar with a Gaidin, and now I have two! Though you look as one person with two bodies…"

"Second, cease bothering my grandchild's paramours and bring that blade back – it was a lend, not a keep!" Thanakah reverently returned the power-wrought blade to its sheath and trotted up the stairs, kneeling and presenting it to the Watch Master. "I wasn't there in time to revenge myself on the High Lord Turak," grandpa explained, disappointed, "so I took his bloody sword in recompense!"

"Did you find anything else there?" Shrina enquired, though without much hope.

"Some scantily-clad serving girls, a fine collection of cuendillar which we will be taking down to Tanchico to sell, all proceeds to go towards repairing the damage those bloody 'damanes' of theirs did – have you seen the state of the cobbles? – oh, and a large, gold box…" grandpa eyed Shrina shrewdly, "looked like it used to contain a horn of some kind… though it was empty."

"Oh," Shrina commented, muttering; "bloody Hornsneaker!" under her breath.

"Well – and I'm sorry it wasn't you little vixen – whoever did sound the thing and fulfilled the Miereallen Prophecy… at least they didn't like the Seanchan devils any more than us."

Shrina thrust out her lower lip. She didn't care that the Hornsneaker had helped to liberate her hometown from the oppressors. "It should have been me!"

"Yes, it is blood," Shrina curtly confirmed to Renn, adding; "trust me – you really don't want to know!"

"I am sure that I don't," Renn agreed equably, "but what I do want to know, Shrina, is all about this Horn that you're supposed to have found…"

"I'm not supposed to have found it, I have found it, and I've sounded it twice now!"

Renn sighed. While the Warders and Thaeus attended to the horses, Shrina led her up several flights of stairs to a mullioned doorway set in the side of one of the towers. The circular bed-chamber inside, in addition to a bed, contained several items of massive furniture, oaken cupboards and a writing desk, chests… and a large, gold box, like a flattened cube, ornately decorated with silver chasings.

"It's in there," Shrina said, then wailed; "and I can't get the bloody thing open again!"

Renn knelt by the chest, studying the intricate workings on the top, then pushed in certain places… and the lid sprung open. Inside nestled a curled huntsman's horn cast in bronze. Renn traced the script around the wide bell; Ti mi aven Moridin isainde vadin. 'The grave is no bar to my call.' She blinked.

"It doesn't summon Heroes," muttered Shrina, sounding miffed, "just Sages."

"Then we must speak to them," Renn stated firmly, trying to control her excitement, "they may be able to tell us where Ellyth is."

Shrina's eyes lit up. "I hadn't thought of that!"

"Hello again Sages, I hope that you can make yourselves useful for a change."

"Shrina!"

"Ask your questions, Hornsounder," said Ghoetam, "we shall try to answer."

"Very well. I am worried about my friend Ellyth, who has gone missing in the- no, wait, I suppose I should give you her full name, it is Ellythia Desiama, she is a Noblewoman who sticks her pointy nose in the air a lot, slender with pale skin and her hair is in ringlets – oh, it's a sort of dull brown colour, by the way – and also-"

"Hornsounder?"

"What?"

"That is not a question, that is a description."

"Well, it was until you interrupted it!"

"Your pardon." Ghoetam paused a moment, touching a chubby finger to his lips which were, as ever, curved into a half-smile. "Hornsounder, would I be right in thinking that you wish us to… locate a missing personage? That is to say, a person who has gone missing?"

"Yes!"

They were at the top of the cliffs, hidden in a grove of towering oak trees, an ancient place where the Do Miere A'vron customarily cremated their dead. There had been quite a few funerary rites held here of late, as mounds of charcoal and scattered ashes attested.

Renn could barely believe her eyes. Shrina had sounded the bronze horn and immediately, a thick white fog had descended and with it, scores of people in ancient dress who now surrounded them on all sides. She had curtsied politely to these great sages of the past and was doing her best to adopt a respectful countenance, if only to make up for Shrina's dreadful behaviour! She had been introduced to three of them in a cursory way and was still reeling, not only was she looking at Lord Ghoetam, the Seeker of Enlightenment, but Anla the Wise Counsellor also! The other one, a gaunt, craggy-faced, bearded individual in a brown robe was called Derwuaad, which she knew translated loosely as 'Oak Man.' He seemed to approve of the setting.

Ghoetam had spread his hands apologetically. "I regret that finding your friend may not be feasible…"

"You managed to find Matrim bloody Cauthon of the Three Rivers or whatever it was called! You showed me a picture of him – a moving picture! – where he was grinning smugly and fondling my burning Horn of Valere!"

The Wise Councillor smoke up in her nasal voice, with lecturing tones. "But that was permissible within the strictures under which we exist and operate."

"Huh?"

"Since Master Cauthon is, like yourself, a Hornsounder-"

"He is not! He's the bloody Hornsneaker and when I get my hands on him-"

"Shrina!" gasped Renn again, scandalised, clutching at her arm, "you can't talk to Anla the Wise Councillor like that, it's disrespectful-"

"Stay out of this, Renn! All I want is for these impossible Age-Sages to tell us where Ellyth is and I don't see why they can't perform that simple task!"

Derwuaad was looking thoughtful, Ghoetam amused. Anla shrugged. "We are permitted to speak of the Horn… sneaker, as you put it… but even were we allowed to search the Pattern itself for this… this…"

"Missing personage," supplied Ghoetam.

"Yes, it would only be by some great cosmic confluence, the working of the Age Lace itself, a hundred intricate threads coming together to form-"

"Hornsounder," Derwuaad interjected in his gravelly voice, "this associate thee wishest to find... she hast pale skin and brown hair, say you? Mayest it be the colour of chestnut bark, and her eyes also, large and dark?"

"And glisteny!"

"And serves she the Great Hall, as do thee and thy companion?"

"Hah?" Shrina blinked.

"He means, is Ellyth an Aes Sedai, like us!" Renn hissed.

"Yes, of course she is! Ellythia Sedai of the Blue Ajah, she has gone missing somewhere in World's End, she is short and snippy and… um… she always keeps her fingernails very clean…"

"Rather prim, bit of an ironic sense of humour… but one of the most decent people I have ever met!" Renn added.

"Ellyth is our best friend and we're very worried about her!"

Derwuaad nodded thoughtfully, then glanced at Anla. "A confluence in the Pattern indeed!" he rumbled, before turning back to Shrina and Renn. "Excuse-me Hornsounder and Companion-to-Hornsounder, but I must ask a question of one other concerning your missing friend." With that, the tall, bearded fellow abruptly disappeared. Shrina jumped as Derwuaad just seemed to pop out of existence… she tightened her grip on the Horn… what were they talking about? She had wanted dead Heroes from the past, not dead… confusing people!

While they waited for Derwuaad to return from wherever he had gone, Renn found her gaze drawn back to one of the Sages in particular. He had deep-set eyes, a beak-like nose and very bushy eyebrows… and the tunic, the odd leggings… there weren't very many portraits left, but she had seen a copy of an ancient woodcut, long since consigned to the flames of the Trolloc Wars… the man in that smeared charcoal sketch that still bore singe-marks from the War of a Hundred Years at its edges had been wearing similar clothing… and surely there couldn't be that many scholars and sages with a nose that big? The accounts almost always mentioned the nose…

"Excuse me," Renn asked the small, wiry man, "but you wouldn't happen to be Willim of Maneches, would you?"

The man regarded her and nodded, a little impatiently she thought. He answered in deep, antiquated tones; "aye, that I was, Aes Sedai, when last I wore flesh…" he scowled slightly, "leastwise, Willim of Maneches I be'est up until the tree-branch didst land upon me!" He lowered his voice, grumbling, as much to himself as to her; "in summertime I didst always have a yen to sit beneath the old oak at the end of the garden whilst I didst scribe my essays…" his small, dark eyes nestling beneath the bushy white brows twinkled as he gazed up at her, raising a knobbly finger, "yet in the end, that accursed rotten tree, it didst prove my sharpest critic!"

Renn was gaping at him. "You're one of my favourite writers!" she gushed.

Willim of Maneches frowned. "One of? And why not the favourite, pray tell?"

"Well, in terms of philosophy that isn't too dry, that has some humour and humanity to it… I suppose it is a choice between you and Pelateos…"

"Pelateos the Ponderer? Nay!" Willim of Maneches seemed put-out. "Verily? That dullard?"

"I heardest that!" snapped one of the other Sages sternly. Tall and skinny, he had an odd garment wrapped about his bony frame, like a long length of white cloth, held in place by a large, onyx broach pinned at his shoulder, which was bare, along with the rest of the arm. His face was gaunt, his upper lip shaved, though a long, carefully-groomed beard extended some way out from his chin. His eyes were very blue, and were rather coldly fixed upon Willim of Maneches, Renn thought. He dismissed Willim with a snort. It was clear who he was also, she had once seen a mosaic of him… this was extraordinary!

Pelateos turned toward Renn. "I thankest thee for the compliment, Aes Sedai," he murmured, his vulgar speech oddly-accented, "though am unsure if 'tis complimentary to be mentioned in the same sentence as one Willim of…" he blinked, turned toward Willim of Maneches, "excuseth me, scrivener, where didst thou sayest thou were from? A small, dirty place, I believe, that no-one hast ever heard of..?"

Willim of Maneches glowered at Pelateos, having to tilt his neck back somewhat to do so. "Maneches! I didst always be proud of my village," he snapped, "for all that it were but a simple place and not-"

"The noble Collam of Dalsande, jewel of Essenian learning?" Pelateos smiled smugly and touched the brooch, carved with laurel-leaves, that sat on his breast.

"Bah! Dalsande! A bunch of lack-witted old fools shuffling about wrapped in sheets! The Trollocs didst well to burn the place!"

"How dare thee! Taketh that back, varlet!"

"I dost not! Spake you disparagingly of my birth-village, where I didst be raised and didst learn my letters!"

"Thou callest me 'dullard' thou mannerless swineherd!"

Renn stared. Were they going to fight? Men!

"Effete ponderer!"

"Apple-gathering rustic!"

"Please don't argue!" Renn wailed, "you are my two favourite scholars! Why can't you just be friends?"

"Friends?" Pelateos snapped, "any scholar who dost not feel contempt for all other scholars has no right to call himself a scholar!"

"True!" shouted Willim of Maneches, then blinked uncertainly, realising that he had just agreed with Pelateos the Ponderer…

Pelateos frowned. "E'en so, the oer'riding question remaineth – of we two, which preferest thou, Aes Sedai?"

"Aye! 'Tis me is it not?" demanded Willim of Maneches.

"Be not so absurd, bumpkin, the Aes Sedai is clearly a student of taste."

"Then she most certainly durst not choose thee, Ponderer!"

Renn could not help but think that she had been put on something of a spot, and was beginning to regret having approached the Sages in the first place – she was not the accursed Hornsounder, Shrina was! She should not have to answer such difficult questions, Shrina should. Not that Shrina had likely ever read so much as a page by either of them! When it came to literature, if it didn't contain handsome-yet-unmarried men and a healthy amount of 'romance' with same, then the girl wasn't remotely interested! Shrina!

Fortunately, the return of Derwuaad occasioned Renn with the opportunity to smile apologetically at the two impatient Sages, whisper (in rather cowardly fashion, she was later ashamed to recall) "I think that you're both every bit as good as each other!" and flee back to Shrina's side. Phew!

Derwuaad was addressing Shrina;

"Your friend Ellythia Desiama of the Blue Ajah may be found at Bear Rock, a week's sail north of your current location, Hornsounder."

"Oh… well, thank you, Derwuaad. Bear Rock?"

"The rock lies at the end of the mountain range known in your time as The End of the World."

"World's End!" exclaimed Shrina.

Renn was curious. "How do you know this, Derwuaad?" she enquired.

Derwuaad gestured at the wall of white mist that surrounded them and an image appeared upon it… a wide-shouldered, youngish fellow, well-muscled and with large, blue eyes, hair that was pure white also, standing on lush, green grass, looking rather confused… there was an odd blue tattoo on his chest… and he was not wearing anything at all! Shrina and Renn stared.

"Goodness," exclaimed Renn, after a while.

"Quite," agreed Shrina.

The naked man with the odd eyes seemed to be arguing about something, though they could not hear his voice. His teeth flashed whitely as he spoke, and seemed to be somewhat sharper than they ought.

"Why isn't he wearing anything?" enquired Renn.

Derwuaad shrugged his bony shoulders. "I fear that we didst drag him from the middle of a dream… though more of a nightmare in truth, one where he wearest another form and chaseth… well, that is not the issue, Hornsounder, but 'tis he who visits the Dream and none other, and 'tis he who is with your friend in the Waking World."

"He must be that Age of Legends man that Ellyth went to find…" Renn whispered.

"I thought you said that it was some kind of a weapon she sought?"

"Both, I think…"

A little to their disappointment, the image in the fog disappeared.

"Is there anything else of use that you can tell us?" Shrina demanded. Renn winced. How she wished the dratted girl would enquire politely – these were the greatest minds of the Ages yet she addressed them as though they were a collection of grocers who had been caught selling short-weight! "Well, Sages? Anything we should know?"

Ghoetam tapped a finger consideringly against his smiling lips. "Voice-of-the-Sun," he called, in his sing-song voice, "would you come forward?"

He was the tallest of the Sages, and – though it took some doing – definitely the most strangely-dressed! He wore a bright orange robe and spiked yellow mantle, the upper half of his face obscured by a large golden mask in the shape of a fiery sun, curvilinear rays radiating out from it, his jaw and chin painted gold to match.

Also, he spoke with a pronounced lisp…

"Greetingth, Thervanth of the Hall, I am thomething of an Oracle."

Shrina eyed Renn, forming the word 'oracle?' with her full lips. Renn shrugged. Shrina sighed. "What can you tell us?" she asked.

"Well," lisped Voice-of-the-Sun, "I thupothe there ith only one way to find out!" At which his eyes rolled-up into his head, his whole frame seeming to shiver. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then another… and spoke, in a completely different voice. An oddly golden voice, strangely beautiful, seeming to sing as much as to speak. It was also, unmistakeably, the voice of someone who was not quite… sane!

"I am the Sun the Sun am I."

Ghoetam clapped his hands together. "Greetings, Majestic! Your humble Voice asked me to impart to you this… he wondered if you might have words, words for these two Aes Sedai, who seek your wisdom."

"They must go north they north must go."

Shrina scowled. "We already knew that! We are going to this Bear Rock!"

"A Servant of All of All a Servant."

Renn blinked. Shrina glanced at her. "This is weird!" she muttered. Renn sighed. And Voice-of-the-Sun turned toward her, extending a hand, equally covered in gold paint as what little of his face could be seen beyond the mask.

"The arrow points down points down the arrow."

Renn's mouth fell open, then snapped shut. She frowned. "Which arrow?"

The hand fell to his side and Voice-of-the-Sun's eyes rolled back down, dark orbs blinking.

"What did you mean by that? Pointing down where?"

Voice-of-the-Sun resumed focus, noticed Renn. The ornate mask moved from side to side as he shook his head apologetically. "Thorry, the Thun hath gone, it ith jutht me again."

Shrina put her hands on her hips. "Well thank-you, Ghoetam, that was extremely informative!" Ghoetam's smile widened a little.

"Shrina!" snapped Renn, "it might turn out to be helpful… whatever it meant…" She turned to Ghoetam, restraining herself from curtsying just but bobbing a little all the same – well, he was the bloody Founder of Enlightened Thought, for the Light's sake! "Forgive us our seeming ingratitude, Enlightened One, I am sure that-"

"Oh, stop sucking-up to Ghoetam, Renn! He doesn't care!"

"It is true that I do not, Honoured Companion of the Hornsounder, for removal of one's cares from the corporeal is but the first step on the path to enlighten-"

"Oh shove your stocking in it, Ghoetam, there isn't time, we have to find a ship and then go rescue Ellyth…" Shrina blushed. "Sorry! It's just that I'm worried about her and…"

"That is quite understandable, Hornsounder. A blessing on those who aid their friends in times of difficulty."

"Thanks for the advice! Except for that last part, which was silly. Oh, and I've found a nice gold box to keep your Horn in, so it shouldn't get wet on the voyage!"

Ghoetam smiled. "That is well to know."

"So," said Shrina, breaking the silence as the plates were pushed away from their places, "we are going to need a ship."

Jabal raised his head eagerly. He was only too glad to continue his journey by means of the waves, though the Twins looked disgruntled at the prospect of leaving their beloved horses behind. Thaeus was still picking aimlessly at his fish, a slight smile creasing his lips, he did not appear to be aware of the rest of them. Renn was industriously scribbling something in her notebook… which left grandpa.

Master Tolamani grunted. "The Seanchan devils stole our larger craft but there is the Little Watcher, he is small but fast."

The oak-panelled dining hall contained a long table about which they were all sat. Coals glowed faintly in the fireplace at one end of the room, doing little in the way of dispelling the chill atmosphere. Shrina shivered. It always seemed to be cold, up in the Towers. And a deal colder at night, without the Twins on either side of her! But grandpa did not approve of their sharing a bedroom in their unmarried state, so that was that.

"Can we leave tomorrow?"

"We can, on the dawn tide, he is fully provisioned. I was thinking of taking the cuendillar down to Tanchico, but will sail north with you instead."

"You're not coming too, grampy!"

"Why-ever not?"

"You're too-"

"Aes Sedai or no, if you say 'old' then it is spanking time!" Grandpa thumped a gnarled fist on the tabletop, making the plates jump. The Twins eyed him narrowly.

"I wasn't going to say that, I just thought that you must be busy with… with other things…"

"I am not. Come, little vixen, let us go to the map room."

Shrina gestured at her boys to stay behind as she rose and followed her grandfather from the hall. Renn did not seem to be interested in coming.

The map room was an adjunct to the gloomy library where the Watchers stored their books of prophecy, a cramped and dusty space, the walls lined with atlases and scrolls. A square table took up the centre of the room, upon which Master Tolamani spread out a large scroll, holding the edges down with lead weights in the shape of eyes emblazoned over waves. Shrina gazed down at the western coast that faced out onto the Aryth Ocean, ignoring the colourful sea-serpents and focusing instead on the coast-line marked in age-darkened inks, following her grandfather's finger as it traced its way up past Bandar Eban, to…

"World's End," grunted grandpa, "a bad place. Your friend was a fool to go there."

"Yes, well, that is something I shall take up with her when we meet." Shrina didn't say 'if we meet' and tried not to think it. According to Renn there were Fades and Trollocs and Darkfriends hunting Ellyth, and who knew what else. No, they would get there in time, and if Ellyth tried to call her down for going off Horn-Hunting without her, then she would get a piece of her mind concerning her own fool-hardy quest! Grandpa's finger tapped on a portion of the map that seemed to be more sea than land, right at the tip of the mountains.

"There. Bear Rock. It is the last great peak of World's End, though there are plenty of submerged rocks around-abouts, we shall have to be cautious. Only it is not like the other peaks, it is as though the point had been sheered off – the top is perfectly flat, like a table. I saw it once, long ago."

"Why is it called that, grampy? Shouldn't it at least be shaped like a bear?"

"I do not know, little vixen! I do not make these things up. It has always been called Bear Rock… it will always be called Bear Rock… why do you bother me with this?"

Shrina tapped a finger against her full lips, musing; "perhaps there is a rock somewhere shaped like a bear, only it is called Table Rock?"

Grandpa sighed. "Perhaps…"

Jabal was scowling at the small sailing-craft, Renn noted.

"What's wrong? Isn't it… sea-worthy?" She thought that was the right term.

"He has good lines and a well-steeped mast," Jabal grudgingly admitted, but then pointed accusingly at the wheel. "But where is the tiller? They have a pulley system for steering… these Wave-watchers have been stealing our secrets!"

"Oh honestly!" Jabal was so… paranoid, when it came to these sorts of things! Renn's voice echoed from above. They were in a small harbour that had been hacked out of the cliffs below the Watcher's Towers. The ship tied to the dock had a black hull and black sails, an eye painted on each side of the bow. Renn's brow furrowed. A black ship… what did that make her think of? Well, no matter, it would come back to her… she turned her head at the sound of footsteps. Shrina was coming, along with Thaeus and her rather objectionable old grandfather. The Twins laboured along behind, the large gold chest that contained the Horn of T'oph slung between them. It was dawn and a southerly wind was blowing. Time for them to go.

"Hold on Ellyth, we're coming for you!"

Part III : The Storm

Red-eyed Cohradin of the Sovin Nai groaned softly, trying not to think about all that water that was just on the other side of the thin wooden planks to which his back was pressed. He sat, wedged in a line with the other Shaido, feeling the boat-thing rise, rise up to the top of one of those enormous waves… and then down, down into its trough again. The storm had been going on for some time, for what seemed an eternity, and he was not sure how much more of this he could bear. Part of him wished that they would just sink and get it over with… what would it be like to drown? Not pleasant, and no proper death for an algai'd'siswai, that was for certain. The Dance of the Spears was the only correct way to be waked from the dream.

"Are you well, Cohradin?" asked the Nightwatcher. He was sitting cross-legged, just opposite. Eating an apple. How could he eat at a time like this? "Look a bit sickly, do you."

Cohradin summoned the strength to shake his head. "I am fine," he said, between gritted teeth.

"Oh. Good." The Nightwatcher tossed the apple core over his shoulder, dusting his gloved hands, eyeing the Shaido curiously. "You do not find the motion of the waves to your taste?"

"We have resigned ourselves to death, Vron'cor," said Chassin, morbidly.

"Come now! This craft is seaworthy, we will ride out the storm, you will see." The Nightwatcher grinned. "Though if you notice the rats going up on deck and throwing themselves over the side, you will know I was wrong!" He paused, sniffing. "In fact…"

The Nightwatcher rose and went swiftly over to the dark corner of the hold, beyond where the light of the swinging lantern reached. There was a crunching sound and a muted squeak. He returned, holding a large, black rat by the tail, examining its limp carcase with satisfaction. "Nasty thing," he muttered, "probably spying for the Shadow, it was…"

A pounding sounded on the deck above their heads. The Nightwatcher glanced upwards and sighed.

"Oh, seems Aes Sedai require Sin'aethan Shadar Cor again… will see you later, Shaido." The open hatch let in a blast of damp air rich with salt and then the Nightwatcher was gone. Cohradin had long since ceased taking small comfort in the fact that the cramped wooden space into which they were crammed was called a 'hold.' It was not like an Aiel Hold. Not at all. The ship began its inexorable rise up the side of another enormous wave. Cohradin groaned again.

The weather was horrible; pounding waves, sheering squalls, lashing rain, the small sail-craft rising and pitching in the heavy swell… and Jabal Gaidin was having a wonderful time! Even if these salt-kissing Wave-watchers did have a suspiciously Atha'an Miere-like wheel and pulley system to move their rudders. The wheel itself was currently shaking and juddering beneath his tattooed hands, transmitting the power of the ocean through the rudder and ropes and pulley, directly into Jabal's body. For the first time in a long time he felt at home again, in his element.

"Two points east, steersman," snapped the Sailmaster.

"Yes, Sailmaster," responded Jabal crisply, spinning the wheel slightly.

For the hundredth time since Falme, Jabal gave silent thanks to the Creator for unexpectedly giving him the opportunity to do this sort of thing again. This was not mere river-cruising, this was salt-sailing at its finest. He had not enjoyed himself so much since that last night in Falme, when they found the big bath and the boiler in one of those rooms in the Watcher's Towers. There had been no opportunity to get close and snuggle with Renn since.

The wheel twitched, like all eight of the seas clasping hands with Jabal, welcoming him home. But more importantly, transmitting the feel of the ocean, and what it might do next… he spun the wheel a few spokes to the right. There was a big wave coming, and he angled the craft to meet it head-on.

The Sailmaster, the old Watcher who Shrina Sedai called 'grandpa' but every one else called 'Master Tolamani,' watched Jabal for a while with dark eyes that had watched for the return of the Hawkwing, watching the way he steered, then nodded.

"Steady as she goes, steersman." He turned to go.

"You leave the quarterdeck, Sailmaster?" Jabal was not worried, just surprised.

The Sailmaster turned back. "I assume it is safe to leave my ship in the hands of a Takana?"

Jabal blinked. Master Tolamani knew what the Clan sigil on his hand meant… that was odd. How did the old Watcher know?

"And a din Sudim Takana at that, by the looks of it…" the Sailmaster added, "I hear the din Sudims are good people."

He could read his family signs too! Very odd.

"Oh, they are good people," Jabal agreed hastily, "I mean we are, the din Sudim Takana, that is…" – Jabal grinned, Renn had not believed the size of the family she was marrying-into when he had told her, her mouth had dropped open – "… all good people – all three hundred of us!"

And of course, Jabal knew everybody's name, just as they knew his… family was important to the Sea Folk. Though he had not been back amongst his family for a while, he might have missed a few new arrivals (there were always new arrivals!) but when in Tar Valon, he could always rely on Aunty-Ny to come up to him in the Library and proudly give him news garnered from the many letters she received from their mutual, scattered, enormous family… carefully collated and cross-referenced details of all of the latest little din Sudims who had most recently been held up, slapped on the bottom, and placed at their tired mother's breast.

Jabal always nodded gravely, listening to the ancient Sea Folk Aes Sedai attentively as she excitedly gave him important details such as whether a boy or a girl, how much they had weighed in the Cargo Master's scales, what colour their hair was, what the weather had been doing when they were birthed... din Sudim babies were always born on the salt, naturally, and the state of the salt at the time of their birth was considered to be indicative of their later life. Raab (once but no longer a din Sudim) Jabal's out-cast cousin who he had attempted to kill, had been born during the most violent storm anyone could remember – they had always known that boy would be trouble!

Jabal had not been that interested in details such as whether one of his many cousin's latest babes had a single tooth when she was born during a flat calm, but he loved his aunt so had perhaps pretended more interest than he felt… while wondering if Renn would dislike Aunty-Ny quite so much if she knew what an obsessive collector of din Sudim baby-details the old Atha'an Miere Sister was? She had never seen any of these newborns and probably never would, but Nyein din Sudim considered it important to know these things. It was quite endearing, really!

At the thought of a Sea Folk-sized family, Master Tolamani laughed, a short, harsh, barking sound. "Just raising one grand-daughter was a nightmare for me!" he confessed as he turned away, chuckling, stumping down to the deck. He kept a firm grip on the life-line that had been strung fore-and-aft, ignoring the sea-water washing about amidships. He shouted over his shoulder above the noise of the storm;

"I am going to the head, then I am going to get a bite to eat, then I will be back with a mug of rum and a biscuit for you, steersman. Try not to sink my ship in the meantime, din Sudim Takana Atha'an Miere, or I'll hang you in the rigging by your heels while we go down to the bottom!"

Jabal watched the Sailmaster go, frowning with bemusement. He certainly seemed to know things about the Sea Folk that the Shorebound did not usually. The old man was a little peculiar, but then – though Jabal had always liked Shrina very much in spite of this – so was his granddaughter!

And so was Ellythia Sedai's new Warder, for that matter. Jabal watched as the hatch behind the mast opened long enough to emit the strange fellow who had replaced Atual Gaidin. He sighed, missing his friend. He had poured some wine into the sea and said a blessing in remembrance for his fellow Warder as was only right and proper, but it would take time to fully accustom himself to the sense of loss. Naythan Gaidin turned his large, blue eyes up toward the quarterdeck, raising a gloved hand in greeting, then went below to the cabin. He did not bother with the life-lines, did not seem to find the up-and-down motion of the waves or the seawater washing around his booted feet to be a hindrance.

Jabal eyed the clouds in the evening sky above. He was not weather-wise like a Windfinder, but he knew enough to know that it would get worse before it got better.

"Honestly, Ellyth! I cannot believe that you could not at least communicate with the Age of Legends man… with your new Warder… you bring the White Tower into disrepute, you and Shrina both! Aes Sedai who cannot even converse at the most basic level in the Old Tongue…"

"Hush, Renn! I told you that in Amadicia, daughters of the nobility are not taught the Old-"

"Neither are the daughters of Tar Valon Innkeepers, but I did not let that stop me from at least learning it!"

"Bookworm!"

"Whitecloak!"

"Oh shut-up, both of you! I'm sick to death of the two of you bickering, any more and I shall go up on deck and leave you to it."

"If the deck is even still there!"

"I cannot see what your problem is, it is only a little rough weather."

"And you are supposed to be an expert when it comes to the weather, yes? And yet you did not see this horrendous storm coming!"

"Well, it came out of nowhere… and you are still looking rather green, Ellythia-dear, would you like me to fetch your bucket?"

"Hornhunter!"

"Hah! You can't call me that anymore, Whitecloak, since I am no longer hunting for the bloody thing!"

"No, Shrina, you are hunting for the Hornsneaker instead, now! Honestly!"

"Who asked you to stick your oar in, Bookworm?"

"Hornsounder!"

"Aah! I told you not to call me that, Renn!"

N'aethan knocked on the door, but he did not think that the Aes Sedai heard him as they were shouting at each other too loudly, so he went in anyway. The angry female noises stopped immediately and three pairs of eyes regarded him frostily. They were sitting wedged in a row on the bunk; there were three Aes Sedai, a blonde, a brunette and a redhead… it sounded like the beginning of one of Father's bad jokes!

N'aethan did his best bow, balancing easily on the swaying deck, avoiding hitting his head on the swinging lantern. "Aes Sedai," he intoned, "as you summoned me, so I am come."

"I have been pounding on the accursed floor or deck or whatever it is for some time, Naythan Gaidin!" Ellythia Sedai did not look at all well.

"Forgiveness, Mistress, at first I thought it was especially large rat making the noise, did not realise…"

"Especially… large…" Ellyth frowned, began to say something, but gulped and attempted to hold down her gorge instead as a particularly huge wave tipped the ship high into the air, before it swept down into a deep trough. She moaned.

"Require bucket again, Mistress?"

"No…"

"You are sure? You look almost as sick as the Shaido!"

"No bucket! I wished to know if there is any sign of this weather abating."

"Afraid not, Mistress. Shrinalla Sedai's great-father informed me that we are still being driven north by the winds."

N'aethan noted that Shrinalla Sedai was looking at Ellythia Sedai with concern, and chafing her wrists, whilst on the other side, Rennetta Sedai was staring at him in that avid way again. And they were both every bit as young and weak in the Power as his Aes Sedai! Things had become very strange… though as confusing as he often found Ellythia Sedai to be, even having only known them for a few days, he had come to the opinion that these two odd friends of hers, her Sisters… well, they were even more confusing. Rennetta Sedai had that look on her face that told him she was going to start speaking the High at him again... the Old Tongue, she called it. She spoke it fairly well, a rather dusty old dialect at least, but had absolutely no idea about inflections…

"Hast thou considered further on my interlocution concerning ye origins of thy Age, good Brother of Battles?" Rennetta Sedai wanted to know, at some length.

N'aethan sighed, and replied in the Low, the vulgar language, hoping that she would take the hint and stop addressing him in this ridiculous manner – it made her sound like a particularly pompous advocate of law!

"Would be happy to answer more of your questions, Aes Sedai, but keep telling you, know little of this Age of Legends… was not even born in the Light then… by the time Sin'aethan Shadar Cor left the Collam Aman, nearly everything which you ask about had all been destroyed."

"Nay! Twas all vanished? Forsooth!"

She seemed nice enough, this Rennetta Sedai, but he wished she would stop with the Old Tongue directed at the 'Age of Legends man,' not to mention the incessant questions about things he had never heard of. Her appetite for what she called 'lost knowledge' was insatiable!

Ellythia Sedai was eyeing him suspiciously. "What is that you are holding behind your back?"

N'aethan grinned and proudly held up the large, dead rat by its tail. The reaction of the young Aes Sedai was not voiced in terms of approval;

"Eurgh! It's crawling with fleas!"

"Oh, the poor thing! Did you have to kill him?"

"Why are you bringing us a dead rat, Naythan Gaidin?" Ellythia demanded, clutching at her stomach.

"Found it down in the hold, Mistress. Sneaking around, spying for the Shadow, doubtless… brought it to show to you!"

"But why?"

"So you could see that Sin'aethan Shadar Cor had killed it… that had done my duty." N'aethan shrugged, took a step that brought him to the porthole, which he opened briefly – water and wind howling in – and tossed the dead rat into the turgid seas. He dusted his gloves with the air of a job well done.

The Twins were teaching Thaeus the words of a sea-shanty that the foolish Gleeman had taught them, more for something to do than because they approved of the refrain, or its writer. The recessed bunks they lay in were arranged to either side of the forecastle cabin, one atop the other. Aebel was in the top bunk on the starboard side, Blaek in the bottom, while Thaeus was over to port. The lantern swinging above cast a fitful gleam over the tiny, cramped cabin. They lay on straw pallets, arms crossed behind their heads.

"…we'd best start singing our praise to the Light!" the Twins sang together, finishing the first verse rowdily.

Then Aebel sang; "so lift up your voices, each man makes his choices, betwixt the Dark and the Light…"

Then Blaek sang; "…and strike up the chorus, may Shai'tan ignore us, oh sailor sing praise to the Light!"

Thaeus had been tapping his foot in time with the tune but at this he raised a note of caution. "It is a bad idea to name the Dark One, yes?"

The Twins shrugged, at the same time.

"That is what we told the foolish-"

"-Gleeman when he taught us the song."

Thaeus grinned. "This Blucha fellow sounds familiar, I once met a gleeman posing as a bard in Lord Montoyne's manor-house who answers the description. He was later caught en flagrante with Gilles' betrothed and barely escaped with his life!"

"That certainly sounds like him," agreed the Twins.

"Even so, you should not name the-"

The cabin door burst open. It was Master Tolamani. "All hands on deck!"

Ellyth's sore stomach had not been improved by the sight of the dead rat and even though she had nothing left to be sick with, she was just contemplating a few dry heaves when abruptly Naythan cocked his head to one side, looking alarmed.

"What is it? What is the matter?"

"Trouble, Mistress… the mainsail has split!"

Naythan was gone in a flash, the cabin door swinging shut behind him, and the three young Aes Sedai struggled to their feet, helping each other up.

Shrina took command. "Without canvas we won't be able to sail before the wind, we'll capsize," she shouted, "come on!"

They made their way up onto the deck, gripping the life-lines, the wind whipping their gowns about them. Above, the black sail flapped impotently, torn down the middle and hanging in shreds. Shrina's grandfather was herding Thaeus and the Twins out onto the deck forward and Naythan was already halfway up the mast, his gholam-killing knife gripped in his teeth. Ellyth watched as he cut the useless tatters of sail away from the yardarm. The ship rose on an enormous wave, wind howling athwart the bare mast, and began to turn side-on, despite Jabal spinning the wheel hard over. The next wave would surely finish them…

"Link with me!" Shrina yelled, dragging Ellyth and Renn towards the mast. They stood with their backs to it in a triangle, gripping each other's hands and Ellyth opened herself to the Source, feeling Shrina snatch control away from her.

"What are you going to do?" she cried out.

"Something complicated! I only hope it works…"

Then abruptly, the noise of the wind died and the rain ceased to lash down. It was an eerie feeling, the storm was still there, outside, but they seemed to be in an oasis of calm in the midst of it. The ship rose on the next wave, side-on, surely they would be dashed down into the trough and sink? But they were not. The ship tipped at an alarming angle, but somehow they remained afloat and began to rise up the side of the next wave.

"What did you do, Shrina?" Renn wanted to know.

"I've weaved a big bubble of Air around us but I don't know how long it will hold," said Shrina, sounding strained. Her grandfather nodded approvingly.

"Oilfishers, there's spare storm-canvas in the aft locker, break it out!" Master Tolamani bellowed. Bending the new sail to the yardarm took some time, with Naythan aloft doing most of the work, but it was accomplished before their strength gave out. The new sail belled in the wind and the ship gained headway again.

Ellyth and her friends struggled back to the cabin, feeling more than a little over-exerted. Shrina paused in the doorway, gazing darkly up at the sky. "This is no natural storm," she muttered, not for the first time, "I have attempted to quell the winds but there is something powerful working against me. It must be the work of that hag… the granny from the Blight!"

Ellyth smiled coldly. Shrina always called the Kirikil woman that. As they returned to their perch on the bunk – wedged in together, hip to hip, was the best way to avoid tumbling about over the pitching deck – she thought about the first time they had met with the hag… no, that was too painful to think of, though she recalled the aftermath clearly…

Moiraine Sedai gazed down at the two groaning young Aes Sedai with cool dispassion, though there was a note of pity and commiseration when she spoke, her voice seeming to chime delicately, if with bells fashioned of ice. "You foolish girls will require Healing," she observed. And then, without bothering to ask, she gave it. Ellyth was the more badly singed of the two, so received Moiraine's attentions first.

"Ahh!" Sniffling and scrubbing the tears from her eyes, Ellyth rolled onto her side, the shock of the Healing weaves still making her tremble, and watched as Moiraine Sedai knelt beside Shrina and performed the same service. Behind, Atual and Moiraine's Warder, Lord Mandragoran, hovered with blades bared and watched their respective Aes Sedai with concern for a moment, before their cold eyes returned to scanning their surroundings for danger.

"So she's your new Sister then, Longhair?" Ellyth heard Lan Gaidin growl softly.

"Aye, Stoneface, that she is," Atual responded, his grey eyed gaze fixed on Ellyth briefly, a note of pride in his voice. "She could stand a little seasoning," he added, after a moment. Ellyth frowned.

"No matter… she did well enough, as did the young Green. They are still alive, after all…" Lan slapped Atual roughly on the shoulder, his harsh features seeming to relax into a smile for an instant though perhaps it was a trick of the light. "Welcome to the Blue Ajah! You were always wasted serving the Yellows… and your life just got more dangerous."

"I don't need you to tell me that."

Moiraine removed her healing hands from Shrina's temples and glanced over her shoulder at the Warders. "Cease chattering, Gaidin!" she snapped.

Shrina gasped and her eyes fluttered open. She sat up, so Ellyth forced herself to do likewise, much as she felt like curling into a ball and lying quiescent for a time longer… she noted with annoyance that Shrina's green woollen gown was a tad less torn, scorched and besmirched with blood than the ragged remnants of her own pale blue silken dress … she plucked glumly at the shredded silk about her legs – her new stockings were ruined! – and sighed.

"Tell me… Ellythia and Shinalla, is it not? Tell me, how long has it been since you won the Shawl?" Moiraine Sedai, having chastened the whispering Warders, was kneeling back on her slippered heels, careless of the mud staining the hem of her azure silken robe, regarding them both with dark, knowing eyes. A small smile seemed to be hovering on her lips…

Shrina frowned. "It is Shrinalla, Moiraine…" Those dark, delicate brows drew down a little as Moiraine Damodred, Aes Sedai, turned her full attention on the dusky, red-headed girl to the right. "Moiraine Sedai, that is… let me see, it has been three..?"

"Four months," Ellyth stated definitively. That cool gaze turned to the pale, chestnut-locked girl on the left. "Moiraine Sedai," Ellyth qualified, a little breathlessly. "Thank you for Healing us," she added, with unusual meekness.

"Yes, thanks for that," Shrina added, stretching her spine and groaning, "I feel like a three-day-old steelfin that's been gutted and smoked! Watcher's Oath!" She glanced around warily. "That old bag isn't still loitering around the place, is she?"

Moiraine Sedai shook her head firmly, then tucked the statuette of age-darkened ivory back into her belt pouch, after carefully wrapping it in a square of silk. Ellyth regarded it hungrily and noticed that there was a note of envy in Shrina's voice as she muttered; "a powerful angreal, that…"

"Yes," Ellyth murmured, "Lelaine Sedai was complaining of its absence from the Blue Ajah hold…"

"I am sure that she was. Lelaine is excellent at complaining, and as for the…" Moiraine Sedai glanced at Shrina, lips twitching slightly, "…old bag… well, she evidently found my angreal to be somewhat daunting herself, though that device she utilised, a tube that cast flame, daunted me somewhat also." Moiraine shrugged. Her own gown was looking a tad singed, Ellyth could not help but note. "Well, no matter, she has been dispersed."

Ellyth scowled. "Vile old hag! One of those who has been to Shayol Ghul, doubtless, Verin Sedai warned us of her…"

Moiraine Sedai frowned. "And what in the Wheel did you two silly girls imagine that you were doing confronting one such as she? Pick your fights with care, kittens! Try a mouse or two before attempting to scratch a bitch!"

Shrina scowled darkly, Ellyth noted, whilst she was scowling darkly herself.

"We did not know that there would be a Darkfriend Wilder waiting for us in that tower, yes?" Ellyth smoothed her brow a little. "Moiraine Sedai," she added belatedly, lowering her dark eyes from that regal and rather unnerving gaze, smoothing the shreds of her torn and charred skirts with a disconsolate frown. "The hag has ruined my new gown…" Shrina was still scowling and Ellyth could guess why. Kittens?!

"A shame. You should wear stout woollens when you go about your ter'angreal hunting, as does your Horn-seeking friend there, though it has availed her little in this event… Is that one of Mistress Alkohima's? No, the stitching is too sloppy, though I recognise the style… sewn by one of her younger girls, I would presume." Ellyth resumed her scowl. Shrina was still scowling, Moiraine Sedai did not seem to notice – or care – and rose with smooth grace, brushing some dead leaves from her skirts. "Come. We should leave this benighted place. I doubt that Mistress Kirikil shall return – not after what I did! – but there may be further Draghkar lurking about, which shall only worsen my head-ache should they resume their vile singing… Lan?"

Lord Mandragoran sheathed his blade and took a pace forward, towering over his Aes Sedai and settling a pale cloak carefully over her shoulders. Atual put up his sword and went to solicitously help Ellyth to rise. Shrina sighed as she scrambled to her feet under her own impetus. She clearly wished that she had a Warder or three, to look after her!

"Yes Moiraine?"

"Is there an inn nearby?" Moiraine Sedai looked up at the deserted, crumbling watchtower looming out of the dark forest, a gnarled yew twisting though the broken stones of its foundations, and shivered slightly. "Is there anything nearby, for that matter?"

Lan Gaidin shook his head. "No-one has lived in these parts since the Hawkwing's day… although…" he glanced at Atual. "In the mood for music, Longhair?"

Atual grinned. "Aye, Stoneface, I saw the wagon tracks too… perhaps we'll see some dancing also, to go along with a good hot meal?"

"Indeed, there's nothing like a tiganza to warm the blood!"

A peremptory knock on the cabin door and Master Tolamani came in, followed by Naythan. The gnarled old Watcher took a seat on a locker while Naythan balanced easily on the pitching deck, looking somewhat damp and bedraggled, but pleased with himself for all that.

"We are underway, Master Tolamani?" enquired Ellyth. She shivered. She had used weaves of Air to squeeze the water from her gown, but still felt cold and damp.

"Aye, Aes Sedai," responded Shrina's grandfather, "we're under a bare scrap of canvas and the sprit-sail, we've no choice but to run before the southerly gale."

"Thought I saw something Mistress," added Naythan, "just a glimpse when I was aloft… looked like another ship, it did."

Master Tolamani looked put-out. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"Telling you now, am I not? It was a big ship, three masts with ribbed sails, running before the wind as are we…"

Master Tolamani rose from the locker, opened it and began to rummage inside, grumbling to himself. Naythan shrugged and regarded the three young Aes Sedai with bemusement. "No natural storm, this is," he muttered.

Shrina eyed him. "How do you know that?"

"It does not feel right. Jabal Gaidin says it will get worse and I concur. We are in for a hard night."

Master Tolamani rose, holding a sextant. "The stars are out, I'll try to get a reading." He disappeared through the cabin-door, letting in a blast of salt air as he did so. Ellyth embraced the source and cast a weave of Air, not at Naythan himself, but rather at his clothes. Seawater oozed out and puddled on the deck about his boots.

"Thank you Mistress," he murmured, removing his headband and shaking his head, a little like a dog. Shrina and Renn stared. Ellyth realised that they were looking at his ears. Naythan noticed, and touched one of the blunt points decorated with a tuft of hair self-consciously. "You did not tell them?" he enquired.

"Naythan Gaidin is a little… unusual," Ellyth stated, "he sees in the dark as well as a… as an owl, and has very good hearing. He was made to be a weapon against the Shadow, and has certain… abilities."

Renn's eyes were wide, as were Shrina's.

"I play four instruments also," Naythan added proudly, "and the Mother taught me to sing… perhaps when the Shadow is defeated I could become a Gleeman?"

"Perhaps…"

Naythan smoothed his wet hair back and replaced the band about his brow, before taking a seat on the locker. He eyed Shrina and Renn. "Ask."

"Why doesn't Channelling work on you?" Shrina demanded.

Naythan shrugged. "It was part of Father's Design. So that I could battle Dreadlords, and later, the souvraniene, the Madmen…" He grinned, his pointy teeth flashing. "Though I once encountered a Dreadlord who picked up rocks with the Power, and threw them at-"

The door burst open to admit Master Tolamani. "Bad news, little vixen!" he told Shrina, before motioning impatiently for Naythan to get off the locker. He tossed the sextant inside and pulled out a chart, spreading it carelessly on the wet deck. His finger traced a line of latitude east and he shook his head, cursing under his breath.

"We've left the Aryth Ocean behind… now we're upon the Dead Sea."