Several hours later Ivan discerned a tiny grey puff in the distance. Then a white dot appeared over the waves.

Ivan jumped to his feet, forgetting his thirst and empty stomach.

A steamship was passing near.

Ivan began shouting and waving intensely, praying that he attracts the ship's crew attention. And soon he was overjoyed, for the dot definitely was growing with every minute.

It took the steamship a few more hours to come within Ivan's earshot. Apparently, it was one of the Southern Seas Shipping Company's packet boats. These rather fast vessels, intended for carrying passengers and mail delivery, had been a common sight along the whole Southern coast until not too long ago.

They, however, had never carried any armaments, while this one clearly had two smaller artillery pieces visible at its bow.

Now Ivan stood quietly, with growing apprehension, watching three men on the steamship's deck.

'Hey!' came a shout from the ship. 'Find yourself in a sticky situation, eh? You hold on, chum, we're coming to pick you up!'

'Appreciated!' shouted back Ivan.

Feet by feet, spouting less and less of grey smoke, the ship drew closer to Ivan's sloop. Someone tossed him a rope, and he was pulled to the metal side. A rope ladder followed. Ivan tied his boat and climbed up to the deck, with two men helping him at the railings.

A man in a weathered dark blue jacket and a cap approached Ivan, welcoming him aboard and introducing himself as captain Ranford.

'You sure took a beating with that boat of yours,' he said, pointing overboard with his thumb. 'And you're sure lucky we happened by, eh?'

'I am,' agreed Ivan. 'I'm grateful for the rescue, but I wonder...'

Ranford waved dismissively.

'Later with questions. First, clean clothes, and I bet you're dying for a hearty meal now.'

The table was served in the captain's cabin. Ranford told Ivan that Glint had indeed been in the Company's service, but, since the country had become a bedlam and the main office had been raided by the deserted soldiers, who supposedly had killed the Company's owner, he felt it right to take possession of the ship.

'I daresay I've saved her,' said Ranford. 'There were seven of these steamers. Now, two perished in the docks fire, one ran aground due to a dimwit of a skipper, and another one, I hear, has been captured by pirates off the coast. The rest I haven't even heard anything about.'

'So what do you do now, captain?' asked Ivan.

'Now? I've become my own man,' said Ranford, after a short pause. 'People and cargo still need moving, eh? Of course, it's not what it used to be, but we get by... What about yourself? Where were you headed?'

Ivan hesitated for a second, but then, recalling his failure at the capital, opened up and told Ranford of the island refuge, with a feeble hope, that, perhaps, he would be able to recruit the captain for his cause.

Ivan spoke at length of the various advantages of the island Lilya and him had selected for the purpose. It had a quiet bay, suitable for the ships of medium displacement, a number of fresh water springs, enough arable land and wild game to sustain a population of several thousand. There was a small mining settlement, that had been established and subsequently abandoned by a company gone bankrupt shortly before the great crisis erupted.

He explained his fears, that the absolute lawlessness and disorder he had witnessed would spread and consume the whole country, leaving nothing but smouldering ruins. And even the restoration of the order and the state, he feared, would hardly be bloodless. Thus, he thought of creating a remote shelter to which the people could escape.

'The idea came to me when I was passing through Tarvignan,' said Ivan in a faltering voice. 'I don't know if you'd ever been there, but it was a beautiful city on the river, a hub of culture and knowledge since the ancient times, famous for its countless redolent gardens... I happened to be there two days after the city had been pillaged by Stackville's troops. I can only presume it was his way of making a statement about his power and ruthlessness... I entered a rose garden, or, rather, what used to be a rose garden. Flowers and bushes had been trampled and stamped on with boots and horses, and lay there, withering and dying, with dry petals scattered on the grass and sand walkways. There was a large circular lawn with potted plants and a flowerbed. All the pots had been smashed, and in the center of the lawn, right upon the flowerbed, was a pile of corpses, some charred, some only half-burned, men and women. A few lone drooping flowers that somehow had survived the fire bordered this carnage. The air vibrated with the buzzing of insects. And the scent... rotting flesh, ashes, dust and the slightest trace of its former sweet fragrance.'

Ranford was eating in silence.

'How far you said this island of yours was?' asked he at last, having finished with the meal.

'Your steamer will be there in a day or less.'

'Suppose you wouldn't mind giving us the course so we can take you there? We could replenish our water, too.'

'I will show you the way,' said Ivan.

He pointed the island on the map. Ranford nodded and relayed the directions to the helmsman, also ordering Ivan's boat to be hoisted aboard.

Along the way, Ranford asked Ivan more questions about the island, not all at once, just a couple each time, when they naturally were born out of their conversation. How many people were living there and were expected to arrive soon? What means of transportation they had? Were there any soldiers or doctors? Did they have any weapons on hand? What sorts of supplies they had and required?

The steamship reached the island on the next day in the early evening hours, mooring at the old wooden pier. It was a tender twilight, with a soft and dim orange glow cast over the crescent-shaped bay, its calm waters, tall trees and steep cliffs.

Ivan, Ranford and a few others went to the sandy shore. Overjoyed, Ivan hurried forth, eager to see Lilya.

'There's the trail,' he said, pointing ahead and turning to the sailors behind him. 'It's just a short wa-...'

Something like a needle prickled him at his back, going deep under the skin, followed by what felt like a string of flame. Staggered, Ivan suddenly realized that he was lying with his cheek on the sand, and that there was hectic shouting around him and that he could smell gunpowder.

Ranford and his men ran for the trees, but all fell before they could reach them. Some had been shot dead, others lay on the ground cursing and groaning.

Ivan saw people with rifles rush to the pier. Another armed group appeared on the shore and approached the dead and the wounded. To Ivan's horror, they quickly dispatched of those still alive by shooting them in the head.

Ivan was the last one. A man with a revolver walked near, looked at him for a moment, then took aim.

'Stop!' sounded a familiar voice.

Ivan twisted his neck, trying to see the woman hurrying to him.

It was Lilya.

The man stared at her in bewilderement. 'What? He's one of them.'

'No! He's with us!' Lilya seemed appalled, her eyes widened with terror as she looked at Ivan. 'You shot our friend!'

'I didn't know!' snapped the man. 'And he's wearing the damn uniform, wretched fool!'

He pointed at Ivan's faded blue jacket, similar to Ranford's one.

'Company's uniform! I thought he was with them! How the hell didn't you see him yourself?'

'It doesn't matter now. Get a cart this instant, take him to my house.'

'Yes, ma'am...'

Lilya leaned to Ivan and held her hand on his forehead, until a cart was brought to them.

'I'm so sorry, Ivan... I hope you could forgive me.'

He whispered something inaudible. His breath was wheezy and heavy, his chest felt as if a piece of sharp-edged metal had lodged inside.

An hour later Ivan was in bed. His wound had been cleaned and covered, but no one had enough medical expertise to assess his chances. Every sigh caused him such pain, that he could barely inhale a bit of air.

Lilya had been staying with him, but she had been urged to inspect the steamship in person. She had promised to return as soon as possible.

There had been no footsteps, nor had the door been opened, but suddenly Ivan felt someone's presence. He opened his eyes.

At the window was Drakas, looking outside and tapping his fingers on the sill, dressed exactly the same as in the boat yesterday.

He noticed that Ivan was awake. He pulled a chair to the bed and sat down, resting his ellbows on his laps and leaning forward.

'My dear Ivan,' he began in a compassionate voice, 'I am sincerely sorry that events took such a turn, but... it's just how the world works. I understand that you must be embittered now, albeit, and I apologize if it appears tactless, you should remember what you told me the day before. Nevertheless, I've come to allay your worries. You see, I just wish to put your mind at ease, because in your current state... Well, I thought it would be for the best no matter what comes later.'

Again Ivan stared wordlessly at his visitor, but now he was simply unable of speaking.

'It is at times like this my belief that there is some all-encompassing purpose for everything that happens is strengthened and solidified, for I cannot help but admire the orderly and organic manner of people's destinies and how they cross and intertwine. You shall see it yourself.

'Let's start with the ship that's brought you here, Glint. Five months ago the man you knew as Ranford, along with his, should I say, partners, boarded the steamship as passengers and attacked the crew at night. They murdered everyone, except for one Galbenda, who fell overboard during the scuffle. He swam to the shore, and later, after he and I made aquaintance, he asked for those men to be delivered into his hands, so he could avenge his brother and friends. Oh, he waited and waited, and if only you could have felt his maddenning triumph when he spotted Glint in the island's waters...

'Ranford, in turn, wanted to discover treasures, and I'm convinced that a fine steamer and your pretty island do constitute a treasure.

'Your own part, Ivan, I think, should be quite obvious to you.

'And, of course, Lilya, with her heartfelt desire to save as many people as she can... I suppose there are manifold paths one may take in pursuit of such a goal, but, basically, it all comes down to whether you avoid or confront the threat. And, initially, you may lean towards one view, but your stance may change along the way... In short, Lilya no longer considers the island refuge an acceptable strategy.'

Drakas paused for a moment and looked at Ivan, as if observing the latter's reaction.

'Please do not think that all your doings have been for nothing. On the contrary, you've done a great service to Lilya. I think the steamship will prove invaluable when she returns to the continent and begins work to fulfill her plans.'

Ivan let out a quiet groan.

'I know, I know that's not something you would want,' said Drakas, almost apologetically, 'but I must say I have a very good feeling about this. After all, my dear friend, your island is just too small! You can't save a nation of millions with a piece of land fit for a town at best! In any case, I hope Lilya will share her thoughts with you, and you will come to not regard this news as bleak or disheartening. She has a few rather ambitious ideas, and the future definitely promises to be... engaging.'

The door opened and Lilya stepped into the room. She saw Drakas and froze in place. Her eyes flashed with anger.

'Oh, it's good that you've come,' said Drakas nonchalantly. 'There's something I've wanted to tell you both.'