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Someone cleared her throat. He started and turned to find a shawled Keffria Vestrit at his shoulder.

Her eyes moved from his mother to him. ‘I don’t know what I will find at home,’ she said quietly.

‘But the hospitality of the Vestrit home is open to you.’ She smiled wryly.

‘Providing that it still stands at all.’

‘We could not impose,’ Jani assured her gently. ‘Do not be troubled for us. Somewhere in Bingtown, an inn must still stand.’

‘It would scarcely be an imposition,’ Keffria insisted. ‘I am sure Selden and I would welcome the company.’

Reyn suddenly understood that there might be more to this invitation than a simple return of hospitality. He voiced it. ‘It might not be safe for you to return to your home alone. Please. Let my mother and me arrange our business, and then we will accompany you there, to see you resettled.’

‘Actually, I would be most grateful for that,’ Keffria admitted humbly.

After a moment of silence, Reyn’s mother sighed. ‘My mind has been busy with my own troubles. I had not stopped to think of all this homecoming might mean to you. Sorrow I knew there must be, but I had not considered danger. I have been thoughtless.’

‘You have your own burdens,’ Keffria told her.

‘Nevertheless,’ Jani said solemnly. ‘Honesty must replace all polite words for a time. And not just between you and me. All Traders must be frank if any of us are to survive this. Ah, Sa, look at the Great Market. Half of it is gone!’

As the crew worked the ship into the dock, Reyn’s eyes roved over the men gathering to meet the ship, and spotted Grag Tenira.

He had not seen him since the night of the Summer Ball.

The strength of the mixed feelings that surged up in him took him by surprise.

Grag was a friend, yet now Reyn connected him with Malta’s death.

Would her death edge every day of his life with pain? It seemed it must be so.

The ship was secured to the dock and a gangplank run up to it.

The moment there was any access to the ship, the crowd surged forwards and folk began to cry out questions to the captain and the crew.

Reyn pushed his way through the oncoming folk.

His mother, Keffria and Selden followed in his wake.

The second his foot touched the wharf, Grag stepped in front of him. ‘Reyn?’ he asked in a low voice.

‘Yes,’ he confirmed for him. He extended a gloved hand to Grag and Grag took it, but used it to pull Reyn closer.

Head close to Reyn’s, Grag asked anxiously, ‘Has the Satrap been found?’

Reyn managed to shake his head. Grag frowned, and spoke hastily.

‘Come with me. All of you. I’ve a waggon waiting.

I’ve had a boy watching for the Kendry from the headland for the past three days.

Quickly, now. There have been some wild rumours in Bingtown of late.

This is not a good place for any of you.

’ From beneath his own cloak, Grag produced a ragged workman’s cloak. ‘Cover your Rain Wild garb.’

For an instant, Reyn was shocked into silence.

Then he shook out the cloak and flung it over his mother’s before handing her off to Grag.

He seized Keffria’s arm without ceremony.

‘Come along quickly and quietly,’ he whispered to her.

He saw Keffria grip Selden’s hand more tightly.

The boy sensed that all was not right. His eyes widened, and then he hurried along with them.

All their bags were left behind on the ship. It could not be helped.

Grag’s waggon was an open cart more suited to hauling freight than passengers.

There was a definite smell of fish to it.

Two well-muscled young men lounged in the back.

They wore the smocks of Three Ships fishermen.

Reyn helped the women in as Grag jumped to the seat and took up the reins.

‘There’s some sailcloth back there. If you spread it over you, it will keep some of the rain off. ’

‘And hide us as well,’ Jani observed sourly, but she helped Reyn to unfold the canvas and stretch it out. They huddled together under it. Their escorts sat on the tail of the waggon, feet swinging as Grag stirred the ancient horse.

‘Why is the harbour so empty?’ Reyn asked one of the fishermen. ‘Where are the ships of Bingtown?’

‘On the bottom, or off chasing Chalcedeans. They made a poke at us yesterday. Two ships approached the harbour with three others hanging offshore. Ophelia took out after them, and our other ships followed. Sa, how they ran! But I don’t doubt our ships caught up to them.

We’re still waiting for our ships to return. ’

That didn’t seem right to Reyn, but he couldn’t put his finger on why it disturbed him.

As the horse pulled the cart through Bingtown, he saw the city in glimpses from beneath the flapping canvas.

Some commerce was taking place, but the city had an uneasy air.

Folk hurried by on their errands or suspiciously watched the cart pass.

The wind brought the clinging stink of low tide and burned houses.

It seemed to Reyn that they took a roundabout route to the Tenira estate.

At the gate, armed men waved Grag in, and closed the gates behind the cart.

As Grag pulled the horses to a halt, the door opened wide.

Naria Tenira and two of Grag’s sisters were among those who spilled out. Their faces were anxious.

‘Did you find them? Are they safe?’ Grag’s mother demanded as Reyn threw back the canvas that had covered them.

Then Selden was scrabbling out of the cart, crying, ‘Grandma, Grandma!’

On the doorstep of the Tenira manor, Ronica Vestrit opened her arms wide to her last surviving grandchild.

Satrap Cosgo, heir to the Pearl Throne and the Mantle of Righteousness, picked at his chest, pulling off a long papery sheet of peeling skin.

Malta looked aside to keep from grimacing.

‘This is intolerable,’ the Satrap complained yet again.

‘My skin is ruined. Such an unsightly pink shows beneath! My complexion will never again be as fair as it was.’ He looked at her accusingly.

‘The poet Mahnke once compared the skin of my brow to the opalescence of a pearl. Now, I am disfigured!’

Malta felt Kekki’s knee bump the small of her back.

Kekki lay on her pallet by the Satrap’s bed and Malta was hunkered on the floor beside her.

It was her place in the small room. Malta winced at the nudge against her aching back but recognized the hint.

She searched her mind, then lied. ‘In Bingtown, it is said that the woman who washes her face once a year in Rain Wild River water will never age. It is an uncomfortable treatment, but it is said to keep the complexion youthful and fair.’

Kekki breathed out a sigh of approval. Malta had done well.

Cosgo brightened immediately. ‘Beauty demands a price, but I have never flinched from a little personal discomfort. Still, I wonder what has become of the ship that we were to join at the mouth of the river. I am tired of this wallowing about. A ship of this size is ill suited to open water like this.’

Malta lowered her eyes and stifled her opinion of his ignorance. The Chalcedeans travelled for months at a time in their galleys. Their ability to subsist on crude rations and endure the hardships of life aboard an open boat was legendary; it made their reputation as sailors and raiders.

They had emerged some days ago from the mouth of the river.

The Satrap had been angry that the Chalcedean mother ship was not there to take him up.

Malta had been bitterly disappointed that there were no liveships guarding the river mouth.

She had been enduring by pretending that Bingtown liveships would halt the galley and rescue her.

The despair that swept over her as the galley swept freely on was unbearable.

She’d been a fool to dream of rescue. Such dreams had only weakened her.

Angrily she purged her heart of them: no liveship patrol, no Reyn searching for her, no dreams at all.

No one was going to magically appear and rescue her.

She suspected her survival was in her own hands.

She suspected many things that she did not share with the Satrap or Kekki.

One was that the galley was in trouble. It did wallow, and it shipped a great deal more water than it should.

Doubtless the Rain Wild River had taken a toll on its tarred seams and perhaps on its planking.

Since they had left the river, the captain had taken them north, towards Chalced.

The galley hugged the shore; if it broke up, they’d at least have a chance of reaching the beach alive.

She judged the man was running for home, and gambling he’d reach there with both ship and unexpected cargo intact.

‘Water,’ Kekki croaked. She seldom spoke now.

She no longer sat up at all. Malta kept her as clean as she could and waited wearily for her to die.

The Companion’s mouth was ringed with sores that cracked and bled as Malta held a cup to her lips.

Kekki managed a swallow. Malta dabbed at the pink-tinged water that ran from the corners of her mouth.

She had drunk too much river water to live, but not enough to kill her quickly.

Kekki’s insides were probably as ulcerated as her mouth. The thought made Malta cringe.