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what Graelen had always believed. He released his knife hilt. ‘What does the saw-bones say?’
    ‘He says that you are also a good man in a difficult position. Is he right?’
    ‘I don’t...’ Graelen broke off as several adepts came out onto the deck. He tensed, watching them.
    When he turned back, Tobazim was gone. But they had seen them together. If the all-father found out, Kyredeon’s paranoia would lead him to assume the worst.
    There was only one way to prove his loyalty – kill Tobazim.
     
     
    I MOSHEN SERVED MINT tea to help settle seasick stomachs. It was evening of their first day at sea, and everyone suffered. She was lucky; having grown up fishing in small rowboats, she had no trouble with the pitching of the deck.
    She lit the lamp, turned it down low and hung it from the hook, then surveyed the cabin full of moaning women and small children. It was going to be a long night.
    Towards dawn there was a reprieve and nearly everyone had fallen asleep. Her devotee, Frayvia, was just as sick as the rest, but she told Imoshen to rest.
    ‘I think I’ll get some fresh air.’ She slung her cloak around her shoulders and went out on deck. It was a clear, bitingly cold night, with a faint hint of grey in the east.
    Imoshen’s heart filled with joy. Exile meant change, and she welcomed it.
    Eventually the chill became too much and she returned to the cabin to find all was quiet. Frayvia had taken the chance to dress for the day and was kneeling next to her chest. When she noticed Imoshen, she rolled something up and went to put it away.
    ‘What’s that?’ Imoshen whispered.
    ‘A gift from Sorne,’ she said, after a moment’s hesitation. Imoshen’s gift surged; Frayvia’s reluctance to reveal the object sprang from the depth of her feelings for Sorne. ‘It belonged to his mother. It’s the only thing he has of hers.’
    ‘Then it is a very rich gift, indeed,’ Imoshen said. ‘Can I see?’
    Frayvia placed the neck torc in her hands.
    ‘I don’t recognise the design.’
    ‘He believes it came from across the eastern mountains.’
    ‘That explains the stone. I’ve never seen anything like it. Such a vivid blue.’
    Frayvia flushed. ‘Sorne used to wear the torc when King Charald asked him for a vision. It would glow when the predators from the higher plane came through.’
    ‘Sorne...’ Imoshen hesitated. As a Malaunje, Sorne had no innate power. She believed, had he been born T’En, he would have been a seer, capable of calling up visions. Being Malaunje, Sorne had siphoned off power from the empyrean plane to trigger his visions, but to do this... ‘He risked death each time he had a vision. He’s lucky the empyrean predators he summoned were satisfied with the offerings he made. The gift residue in T’En relics would not have been enough for the really dangerous beasts. They could have –’
    ‘I know.’ Frayvia shuddered. ‘He’s promised not to seek any more visions.’
    ‘I’m glad.’ Imoshen hugged Frayvia and returned the torc. ‘I think you should wear this with pride.’
    Frayvia smiled and fastened the torc around her neck.
    Imoshen was glad Sorne no longer risked his life to gain visions, but with the T’Enatuath sailing into exile, her people could have used the guidance of a seer. There had not been one born for hundreds of years.
    They did have a scryer, who was able to search for possible future paths, but their scryer had been injured the day All-mother Reoden’s daughter was murdered. The scryer could not forgive herself for failing to foresee the attack, and her gift had been blocked ever since.
    One of the children moaned in their sleep, woke up and vomited. This disturbed the others and set them off. Imoshen hoped, for all their sakes, they would find their sea-legs soon.

 
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    J ARAILE HAD NEVER seen the Wyrd city. She’d heard it described as a cesspit, and also as one of the wonders of the world. Approaching it that afternoon,