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is called by the tribes who build boats that we have met.  For half my journey it has lain close by, sometimes we walk on its shore, and then for a long while it can be seen only from the highest hills, then again our path leads us to its waves.  It is the greatest sea, and its currents are strong; the north wind may blow but the waters carry us against it, away from the land.”
    “We know the sea is wide, Torrin, but not how broad.  There is another shore, there may be islands, and there are the tribes who travel upon the water.”
    “Valhad, our people are safe.  They will find the path again, and come upon the barak.  The Ummakil will be left behind.  That is what matters most.  Even if all of us who returned from the mountain are lost, that is but a little thing if the tribe is safe.”
    “So now our task is done then, Torrin, and this is the end?  But it does not feel such.  Something is over, but I feel at a beginning, not an end.”  Valhad gazed across the endless rolling sea with distant eyes.
    Torrin said no more.  He prised open the hidden pouch in his leather belt; within were several fishhooks carved from bone.  Valhad nodded with a hint of a smile and then stripped off his woven tunic; sitting bare-chested he began carefully picking apart the strands of barak wool.
    Having no bait, Valhad carefully contrived a tassel of woven hairs to wind around the hook to lure the fish.  The strands of his tunic became a fragile line long enough to reach the water and soon the hook was beneath the surface.  Torrin teased the line gently, watching the darting fish draw near.  The ever-present wake of the serpents rippled and then vanished.   The first fish was small and lifted easily by the delicate twine; they consumed it hungrily, the tiny slivers of flesh seeming delicious.   The hook was cast twice more and catches of similar size were landed until a much larger fish took the hook and the twine was pulled taut.  Torrin played the fish skillfully for some time until the fight subsided and he passed the line to Valhad.
    “Do not pull the line too tight or it will break.  I will go down to the water to land the fish.”
    They both scanned the surrounding sea and saw no sign of the serpents, so Torrin slid down the icy slope to the gently rolling sea.  He snatched at the fish, grasping it by the tail and dragged its bulk from the water.  It was heavy enough to provide several meals, but also to make climbing the steep slope difficult work.   Valhad saw a silver flash break in the waves close by and a dark form approaching beneath the clear waters.  There was barely time to shout a word of warning before the beast broke from the water.  Jaws gaping, it surged up the icy slope towards Torrin, who made a desperate lunge for safety as the scimitar teeth snapped shut around the writhing fish, which was snatched from Torrin's grip.  The great bulk arched back and crashed beneath the water, and then all was silent.  The long hunger continued.
     
    The first ship passed them by.  It had a single sail and crossed their path to the north.  Despite shouting, bellowing and waving their ragged garments in desperation the vessel was too distant, and continued to grow smaller until it was gone.   Time passed; Kanu circled over them three times.  They grew weaker and fell silent, each with head bowed, blinking, nodding and lost within their own thoughts.  
    “Torrin.”
    No answer came to Valhad's mumbled word.
    “Torrin.  Do you see?”
    This time Torrin raised his head and became awake.  There was a ship.  It was still distant but they could see it was of great size with three tall masts, but with no sails set.
    “What direction does it take?” asked Torrin, standing and looking now with keen, bright eyes.
    “It came from the south but is moving north eastwards, with no sails set I cannot see how; it should drift north as we do.”
    “I wonder how close will it pass?”
    “I fear not close