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Althea was leaning thus, eyes straining to pierce the night, when she felt Brashen take a place beside her.

Without even turning, she knew it was him.

Perhaps she was that familiar with how he moved, or perhaps without realizing it, she had caught some trace of his scent on the air.

‘We’re going to be all right,’ he said reassuringly to the night.

‘Of course we are,’ she replied without conviction.

Despite the greater danger they all faced, she was still acutely aware of her personal discomfort around Brashen.

She would have given a great deal to be able to recall dispassionately all they had said and done that night.

She did not know what to blame it on, the drugged beer, the blow to the head, or the cindin, but she was not entirely sure she recalled things as they had happened.

She could not, for the life of her, recall what had possessed her to kiss him.

Maybe, she reflected bleakly, it was because she did not want to recall that those things had happened at all.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked in a quiet voice that freighted the words with more meaning.

‘Quite well, thank you. And yourself?’ she asked with impeccable courtesy.

He grinned. She could not see it, but she could hear it in his voice. ‘I’m fine. When we get to Candletown, all of this is going to seem like a bad dream. We’ll have a drink and laugh about it.’

‘Maybe,’ she said neutrally.

‘Althea,’ he began, just as the ship gave a lurch beneath them and then began to rise.

She caught frantically at the railing and clung tight.

As the ship listed over, the sea seemed to rise towards her.

‘Get back from the rail,’ Brashen snapped at her, and then flung himself aft shouting, ‘Feed it to him! Get it over the side, feed it to him!’

The deck under her feet kept inclining towards the vertical.

Everywhere sailors shouted out their anger and terror.

The ship screamed, too, a terrible creaking of wood accustomed to being supported by water and now pushed up out of it.

The flexibility of the ship that made it possible for the Reaper to withstand the pounding of the sea told against her now.

Althea could almost feel the pain of planks as fore to aft the whole structure twisted and racked.

The rigging groaned and the canvas swung.

She found herself crouched on the railing rather than clinging to it, gripping it with both hands.

She looked up the slanting deck. Sanded smooth and clean, it offered no handholds to retreat from the edge of the ship.

Below her the black sea boiled suddenly as the serpent’s tail lashed the water for more purchase.

A man above her roared in sudden, helpless fury. He had lost his grip, and now he slid down the sloping deck towards her. He wouldn’t strike her. If she just stayed where she was, she’d be safe. He’d hit the railing and probably go over, but she’d be safe. If she just stayed as she was.

Instead she found herself letting go with one hand, and reaching for him.

He struck the railing, she seized his coat, and suddenly they were both swinging, attached to the ship only by her hand’s grip and one of his legs crooked over the railing.

‘No,’ she heard herself gasp as she felt her muscles cracking with the strain.

They clutched at each other and the ship, the man’s hands clutching her so tightly she thought he’d break her bones as he instinctively tried to scrabble up her body to the ship. Below her, the water seethed.

Aft of her, there was a concerted yell of effort and a huge net-wrapped wad of gobbets of oily sea-bear meat was flung over the side.

Althea caught a glimpse of a section of chain following it and then line began to pay out.

The meat had no more than touched the surface of the water before an immense open maw rose from beneath the waves to engulf it.

She could have touched the scaled curve of its neck as it dived after the bait.

She caught a glimpse of layered teeth and huge eyes, then it was gone, a hump of serpent body arching beneath her feet.

There was a triumphant shout and then Brashen was shouting to snub it off, snub it off!

As abruptly as the deck had tilted up, it was falling away, while rope was snaking out across the deck as if they had dropped an anchor.

Althea and her companion were abruptly on the ship’s railing instead of dangling over the side of it.

They both scrabbled frantically to get their whole bodies onto the deck.

The bait line snapped suddenly taut, and the whole ship shuddered to that tug as the hook was set.

Then there was a shriek of torn wood and the huge cleat that had anchored the line was jerked free.

The cleat vanished over the side. The lashed-together line of barrels that followed took out a section of the ship’s rail in their passage into the sea.

The empty barrels popped under the water as if made of stone rather than wood.

As the ship righted itself, there was a general rush of men towards the railing.

All scanned the dark sea for some sign of the vanished serpent.

Men were poised, silent and motionless, looking and listening.

A soft-voiced hunter spoke into the silence.

‘He can’t stay under for ever. Not with all those barrels tied to that hook and chain. ’

Privately, Althea wondered. What could they really know of what a serpent could or could not do?

Might those scissoring teeth be capable of severing the chain leader that bound the meat to the roped-together kegs?

Perhaps the serpent was so powerful, it could take the kegs to the bottom with it and not even feel the strain.

As if in answer to her thought, there was a sudden shout from the other side of the ship. ‘There! See them, they just bobbed up! Look at them go! And she’s down again!’

‘So now it’s a she,’ Althea muttered to herself.

She started to cross the deck but was stopped by the mate’s yell. ‘All of you, quit your gawking. While the damn thing is busy, let’s get out of here.’

‘You’re not going to run it down and kill it?’ One of the hunters demanded in astonishment. ‘You don’t want to be the first ship to bring a serpent’s head and hide back to port? A man could drink for a year on even the telling of such a story!’

‘I want to live to get to port,’ the mate replied sourly. ‘Let’s get some canvas on!’

‘Cap’n?’ the hunter protested.

Captain Sichel stared out to where they had last seen the serpent.

His whole body was tense with hatred, and Althea guessed that he longed to pursue it with the same mindless tenacity as a hound on a scent.

She stood still and silent, scarcely breathing, as she thought to herself, no, no, no, no, no.

Just as the hunters started to talk cheerfully amongst themselves about harpoons and boats and partners, the captain shook himself as if awakening from a dream.

‘No,’ he said quietly, regretfully. And then, ‘No,’ more firmly and loudly.

‘It would be a stupid risk. We’ve got a full hold of cargo to deliver.

We won’t risk it. Besides. I’ve heard some say a mere touch of a serpent’s skin will numb a man’s muscles and drag him down to death.

Let the hellspawn go. That wad of sea-bear meat hooked in its gorge will kill it, most like.

If it comes back, why, then we’ll fight it with everything we’ve got.

But for now, let’s get out of here. Let it drag those kegs down to the bottom with it for all I care. ’

Althea would have expected the men to spring to such a command, but they went reluctantly, with many a glance at the black patch of sea where the serpent had last sounded.

The hunters manifested their anger and frustration openly.

Some threw down their bows with a clatter, while others meaningfully kept their arrows drawn as they scanned the night sea with narrowed eyes.

If the serpent showed again, they’d feather it.

As Althea hauled herself up into the rigging, she prayed it would stay away.

At the farthest edge of the world, the sun was clambering up out of the ocean’s depths.

She could see a shimmer of grey where it would soon burst free.

As illogical as it was, she almost believed that if the sun managed to rise before the serpent returned, they would all survive.

Something in her instinctively longed for light and day to put an end to this long nightmare.

Beside the ship, the serpent suddenly rose like a log turned on end by a whirlpool.

The creature shot up, shaking its head wildly, its jaws gaping wide as it sought to dislodge the hook.

As it whipped its maned head frantically, small gobs of bloody mucous flew wildly from its maw.

Tiny flecks of stinging slime pattered against the canvas.

One struck Althea’s cheek and burned. She cried out wordlessly and wiped it away with a sleeve.

A terrifying numbness spread out from the burn.

Other cries from other sailors let her know she was not the only one hit.

She clung where she was and tried to be calm. Would the stuff kill her?