A distant crash of timber snatched Jute’s attention to the Resolute. A boulder thrown by Wrath had struck the tall bow-stem, snapping it off. Their oarsmen kept heaving and the vessel kept its headway so Jute surmised the keel remained true.

As for Lady Orosenn; her silent crew pulled her out to the waiting Supplicant with breathtaking speed. They climbed rope ladders up the side.

All along the receding shore, the bank of fog thickened to a near opaque wall. It was as if Mist were sealing off her realm in an impenetrable barrier of cloud. Only the giant brothers remained: blurred twin shadows, roaring their namesake ire and heaving rocks that now fell short in tall towers of spray and haze.

Jute went to the stern. ‘Swing us round,’ he ordered Lurjen.

‘Heading?’ the man enquired, his gaze fixed on the rippling fist-waving shadows.

‘East. There’s a channel there or I’m a Letherii philanthropist.’

‘Hit it off with the locals?’ Ieleen enquired dryly, her hands resting on her walking stick and her chin atop them.

‘The usual miscommunication, dearest.’

‘The channel may be impassable,’ she pointed out.

‘We’ll take our time.’

‘We’re too low on supplies.’

‘Then we’ll send out launches to fish or hunt – there may be seals.’

‘You’re determined, then,’ she sighed.

Jute turned to her. ‘Why, of course. After all this?’

She pensively tapped her stick to the decking. ‘I was just thinking that perhaps we’ve gone about as far as we should. All things considered …’

He squatted next to her. Sensing his nearness, she gave him a smile, but it was a wistful one. ‘I’m worried, luv,’ she whispered. ‘We’ve about pushed our luck as far as we ought.’

‘We’re about,’ Lurjen said.

‘Ahead slow,’ he answered without turning from his wife. ‘Find open water.’

‘Aye, aye. Ahead slow, Buen,’ Lurjen shouted.

‘Aye,’ the first mate answered. ‘Get a man up that mast! Two at the bows! With poles!’

‘We’ve a sorceress with us, lass,’ Jute said. ‘And a mercenary army.’

She shook her head. ‘Leave it to them. Who are we? Just common people. We don’t belong in this land of ogres and powers. It’ll be the end of us. I feel it.’ He pressed a hand to her shoulder and she took it, squeezing tightly. ‘Not much farther, yes?’

‘All right, lass. I swear. If it looks too rough. Not much farther.

‘Too rough!’ She laughed. ‘Luv – what is it now, pray tell?’

‘We escaped.’

‘You may not the next time.’

‘I’ll be careful, love.’

‘See that you are,’ she snapped, then sighed and gave his hand a squeeze.

‘Ice ahead, captain,’ Buen called from amidships.

Jute straightened. ‘Very well.’ He faced the bows, squinted ahead where the light held a bluish glow from the thickening flow of great ice slabs. ‘More men on poles. And let’s have a touch more sail.’

‘Aye, aye.’

*