About an hour later, Sorgi came down the companionway. ‘We’re clearing the mouth of the estuary now,’ he reported, ‘and there’s not a single vessel to the rear. I’d say that you’ve made good your escape, Master Cluff.’

‘Thank God,’ Sparhawk replied fervently.

Tell me, my friend,’ Sorgi said thoughtfully, ‘is the lady really as ugly as you say?’

‘Captain Sorgi, you wouldn’t believe how ugly.’

‘Maybe you’re a bit too delicate, Master Cluff. The sea’s getting colder, my ship’s getting old and tired, and the winter storms are making my bones ache. I could stand a fair amount of ugliness if the lady’s estate happened to be as large as you say. I might even consider returning some of your passage money in exchange for a letter of introduction. Maybe you overlooked some of her good qualities.’

‘We could talk about that, I suppose,’ Sparhawk conceded.

‘I need to go topside,’ Sorgi said. ‘We’re far enough past the city that it’s safe for you and your friends to come on deck now.’ He turned and went back up the companionway.

‘I think I can save you all the trouble of telling me that long story you mentioned earlier,’ Sephrenia told Sparhawk. ‘You didn’t actually use that tired old fable about the ugly heiress, did you?’

He shrugged. ‘As Vanion says, the old ones are the best.’

‘Oh, Sparhawk, I’m disappointed in you. How are you going to avoid giving that poor captain the imaginary lady’s name?’

‘I’ll think of something. Why don’t we go up on deck before the sun sets?’

Kurik spoke in a whisper. ‘I think the child’s asleep,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to wake her. You two go on ahead.’

Sparhawk nodded and led Sephrenia out of the cramped cabin.

‘I always forget how gentle he is,’ Sephrenia said softly.

Sparhawk nodded. ‘He’s the best and kindest man I know,’ he said simply. ‘If it weren’t for class distinctions, he’d have made an almost perfect knight.’

‘Is class really all that important?’

‘Not to me it isn’t, but I didn’t make the rules.’

They emerged on deck in the slanting, late-afternoon sunlight. The breeze blowing offshore was brisk, catching the tops of the waves and turning them into sun-splashed froth. Captain Mabin’s vessel, bound for Jiroch, was heeling over in that breeze on a course almost due west through the broad channel of the Arcian Strait. Her sails bellied out, snowy white in the afternoon sun, and she ran before the wind like a skimming sea bird.

‘How far do you make it to Cippria, Captain Sorgi?’ Sparhawk asked as he and Sephrenia stepped up onto the quarterdeck.

‘A hundred and fifty leagues, Master Cluff,’ Sorgi replied. ‘Three days, if this wind holds.’

‘That’s good time, isn’t it?’