No fish, these, but an entire tribe of merfolk. He leans on the rail, studying them. On deck, soldiers exclaim. Always, as they crossed the northern sea, they sailed with an escort of merfolk off their bow and behind the stern. These here, he thinks, are more like a ravening pack of wolves descending on a slaughter ground.

"Beware!" calls Deacon Ursuline, among his counselors.

Papa Otto calls from the stern. "A swarm has gathered here. I don't like the look of these! I think they mean to do us harm!"

As if the words are sorcery, the boat heels starboard. His heels skid backward and he grabs the rail to stop himself from falling onto the deck, but just as he gets his feet up and under him, the ship heels again, seesawing to port side so abruptly that he cannot stop himself. He pitches forward, loses his hold on the railing, and plunges into the cold blue water of the fjord.

Icy water splashed his face as he caught himself on a hitching post, finding his balance although the ground still seemed to tilt and rock.

Captain Lukas swore. "Bitch of a weather! Feel that rain! You'd think it was still winter, by how cold it is!"

Alain blinked rain out of his eyes and shook his head to clear it. The shower had taken them all by surprise as it swept across the courtyard. Dogs and men ran for shelter. The captain laughed and shamed his men into moving more slowly.

"What? Are you running at the first cold drop? What, are you prissy snails?"

The vision, come so fast and unexpectedly, faded as the sights and smells of the compound drowned him. They passed between the kitchens, which smelled of porridge and smoke, and a storehouse, whose door was propped open. Inside, a score of folk huddled in the interior around a cluster of beds, sitting, lying down, coughing: a sickroom, perhaps. A child at the door watched them walk by with wide eyes and a somber expression.

"You've been on the road too many days," said the captain. "The lady does not like the smell of the road. Baths first."

"Can I take the plunge, Captain?" asked one of the escorts.

"Eh! I'd like a good washing, Captain!" said another.

"There's some new wash girls at the baths, I hear," laughed a third. "Not like in the old days, if you take my meaning. More to our liking."

"Hush," Captain Lukas said, but he wasn't angry at his men. If anything, the comments caused him to lapse into a thoughtful silence.

These barracks lay near the southern gate and were not particularly close to the palace complex, which sat on a hill. The streets had little traffic considering the time of day Twice they passed warehouses, each one guarded by a dozen soldiers.

"What do they guard?" Alain asked.

"Grain. As precious as gold."