‘And how exactly are we going to do that?’ Corban asked. ‘Pick up the ships and carry them across land?’

Meical and Dath just smiled at him.

With a huge splash and a spray of water that soaked him and a few hundred others, the first ship slid into the river. Corban didn’t mind; he was already soaked through with sweat. He stood on the bank, bent over with his hands on his knees and sucking in deep breaths. And he was grinning. They had managed to haul the first four ships out of the river and into the marshes. The horses had been unloaded from the three transporters and roped into teams, used to help pull the ships onto land. Then they’d begun the long portage across the spongy ground towards another river, rolling the ships across three or four masts like giant rollers, running them from back to front. The oarsmen taught them the most efficient technique for this, as they had been forced to do it many times by their Vin Thalun masters. Every man had helped, taking it in turns, a bizarre convoy of four ships rolling across the flat landscape. Benothi muscle had added considerably to their teams and the ships rolled across land surprisingly well.

It was a journey of about two leagues.

Not so far to walk, normally, but when you’re pulling a ship . . .

They made their way back to the remaining ships and began the process all over again.

‘We’ve got a problem,’ Dath said to Corban. ‘Those transporters aren’t coming out of the river.’

‘Why not?’

‘Their hulls are too deep. These galleys like the one we’ve been sailing upon, they’re shallow draughted – not much sits below the water. Those transporters, well, a third of the ship sits below the water. That’s fine in a wide, deep river, but we’ll never get them out. And even if we do, we won’t be able to roll them two leagues across land.’

Corban put his head in his hands.

They were sitting in a big circle, Corban surrounded by his growing council: Meical, Tukul, Brina and Gar, Balur One-Eye and Ethlinn, Dath, Cywen and Coralen – who seemed to be in each other’s company whenever Corban saw them – and two others had joined them, representatives of their new recruits. Javed and Atilius. Storm and Buddai were lying in the shade of a willow. Corban watched Javed, remembering the way he had fought Coralen. That had set a rage burning in Corban and it had taken all his will not to draw his sword and cut him down.

Can I trust him? Someone so close to rage and violence?

The honest answer was that he didn’t know, but the oarsmen had chosen Javed and Atilius as their representatives, so for now Corban chose to trust their choice.

And I shall keep a close eye upon Javed.