The Lady’s Luck surged ahead, rocking Reuth on his feet. They shot between the first of the black jagged teeth of the Guardian Rocks. The foaming slew of waves danced about them. One fat swell of webbed olive-green water rose taller than their side. Reuth now kept his vision far ahead of their position. ‘Ready on the turn,’ he warned.

‘Aye.’

Reuth delayed until he dared not wait a heartbeat longer and yelled, ‘Full port!’

Gren drove the tiller arm aside, grunting, legs straining. He even set his shoulder against it. The Lady’s Luck groaned around them as she slewed over. Tulan steadied himself against the stern railing. Reuth grabbed hold of the line holding him upright as the galley rolled frighteningly. They started across the narrows and Reuth saw immediately that their line wasn’t what he was shooting for.

‘Port oars ease off!’ he called, panic now in his voice.

‘Port oars ease off!’ Tulan roared.

Reuth assumed Storval was relaying the commands but he heard none of it over the grinding thunder of the waters about them. The port oars rose to stand straight out from the side. The Lady’s bow nosed over as the opposite row of oars powered on. ‘Resume oars!’ Reuth yelled.

Tulan relayed the command. The line of port oars dipped. Reuth breathed a sigh of immense relief. Their line looked good to him, but they’d lost speed. He leaned, pointing, to shout to Gren: ‘I want a line between that short rock and the cliff for another sweep to the middle.’

The steersman’s thick brows rose, but he nodded. ‘Aye.’

The Lady’s Luck jumped then, flinching as if stabbed, and slewed aside. The grinding of wood over rock momentarily silenced the water’s roar. Reuth leaned over the side in time to see a black shadow sweep past beneath the surface. They’d struck a submerged rock a glancing blow.

Gren strained to bring the bow back into line. ‘Chase speed!’ Reuth yelled.

Tulan repeated the command with a good deal of cursing and fuming.

Reuth felt the surge of renewed speed as the oarsmen leaned into their work. The swordsmen were useless on their timing, but they had real power. And the Lady was responding as before: she didn’t feel sluggish at all. The planking held, thank their Mare carpenters and Ruse enchantments of seam and timber.

They were coming abreast of the short black tooth of rock that Reuth had named the pony in his mental map of the route ahead, and he called out: ‘Ready for the return!’

‘Aye!’

‘Now! Sweep to the middle!’

Gren cursed and heaved, bringing the heavy timber arm back the opposite way. The Lady’s bows now swung over, but heavily, as they fought the swifter current in this narrow pinch close to the port cliff.

‘Ramming speed!’ Reuth called out.

‘Ramming speed, you dogs, or we’ll drink with Mael this night!’ Tulan roared.