There was a story there, Robb did not doubt, though he didn’t care to hear it right now. “Saska. A word, if I may.”

“Of course.” Saska stood, brushing down her skirts. The light and breezy linens she wore only served to give him a better look at her nubile figure, which was just as prepossessing as her face. Her hair had been cleaned and brushed and tumbled down to her shoulders in a flow of deep brown waves, lustrous and thick, and her eyes were bright and pretty as sapphires. Not for the first time, Robbert found himself staring at her a second or two longer than he should. “Shall we talk over here?” Saska offered, moving toward the window. Joy stood and stretched and went to follow, nuzzling at her side as she went.

Robbert walked behind across the spacious cabin, trying not to look any lower than Saska’s hips. When they reached the window, she took a perch on the cushioned seat, Joy planting her head in her lap for a good bit of scratching. “So needy,” the princess said, smiling as her fingers worked through the dense black fur. A deep purr began to rumble from the starcat’s chest, and Robbert marvelled at how calm and beautiful she was, so far removed from that stalking beast that had torn his uncle apart.

The sound of a pebble rattling through tin rang across the room. “That’s another one, Saska,” Leshie called over. “We’re going to continue whether you’re here or not…so I’d be quick if I were you.”

Saska sighed. “She’ll think of some nasty forfeit for me, no doubt,” she said. “So…what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Robb leaned forward, to get a better look through the black iron bars that crossed the window. “Captain says there are whales about,” he told her. “He picked up a pod of them heading our way. I just thought you should know.”

She furrowed her brow and had a closer look out over the water. It brought her very close to him. She smelled of warmth and sunshine. Robbert swallowed. “I don’t see any.”

“No. No…you wouldn’t, not from here.” He drew back from her. “They were spotted east, so…”

“Oh. I thought you were looking for them? Why did you peer through the window?”

“I was just looking.” And trying to get closer to you, he supposed, though he hadn’t thought about that consciously. “But you can see the coast now. Look. We should be there in an hour or so.”

“So long as those greatwhales don’t get us,” Saska offered. “Or something else.”

“Krakens,” Robb said. “Bloodhound says krakens and whales are often seen together. They’re enemies, you know. From the time of Galaphan and Izzun.”

She knew about that, obviously. There was something about her that made Robbert feel like she knew much more than he did about a great many things. Maybe that was Marian Payne’s training? He’d heard it said that the spymaster was very stoic and phlegmatic and Saska seemed somewhat similar. She’s like a riddle I can’t figure out, he thought. A riddle within a riddle, even. Then again, Leshie had trained under Marian as well and that one was an open book.

“My lady, I wanted to ask as well…”

…about why you’re heading north, he was about to say, before the door to the cabin swung open and Sir Ralston Whaleheart ducked inside.

He had to turn sideways to fit through the entrance, massive as his shoulders were, and wore his full plate armour even at sea. There were some thin cuts in the plate where Bernie and Lank had beat his defences during their duel, and some older dints and wounds as well. It was not a polished set, far from gleaming, and in need of a good Forgeborn armourer to set it right, but that didn’t matter. His father had always said it wasn’t the armour, but the man inside it that counted, and so far as Robbert Lukar saw it there was no man living as formidable as this giant.

Saska looked over from the window seat. “Is something wrong, Rolly?”

The Wall bristled at the name.

“Oh…sorry.” Saska made a face and whispered to Robbert, “He doesn’t like it when I call him that in company. Especially not around a prince. He thinks it undermines him.”

“It is unbecoming,” the giant rumbled. He stamped forward, the reinforced wood groaning beneath his feet. My poor ship. And it thought Bernie was bad. The only piece of armour the Wall didn’t wear was his greathelm, held in the crook of his arm, an ugly bucket with an eyeslit and vents. His head was as large as a boulder, grey and scarred and pitted. The Whaleheart was not a handsome man. “There are reports of a dragon, my lady. I wanted to give you fair warning, should it come close. And suggest it may be time to start putting on your armour.”

“A dragon.” She shifted on her seat, and Joy jerked to attention. “Where?”

“A distant sighting. Over the cliffs near Eagle’s Perch.”

“The Perch?” Robbert turned to look back out of the window, but could not see well enough from here. “My fleet is there.”

“Fleet?” chuckled the Butcher. He was leaning against the doorframe, legs casually crossed at the ankles. “Does three little ships make a fleet?”

“You shouldn’t be in here unless invited,” Robbert scolded him. “And yes, it does. You only need three ships for a fleet, and I have four. You’re standing in the fourth.” He turned back to the Wall. “Where is the dragon now?”

“Sir Kester says he lost sight of it beyond the clifftops, Your Highness. It seemed to be coming down to land, though he could not be sure from so far away.”

“Thank you, sir.” Robbert nodded and strode to the door, passing the others at their game, and brushing right past the Butcher to make it quite clear who was in charge. He did not like the man’s insolence and didn’t know him well enough yet to enjoy his sense of japery. Saska swore by him, but still, he was struggling to warm to these sellswords. The woman Savage was still at her post outside.

“You,” she said.

Robbert whirled on her, aghast. “You? I am a prince, likely a king. You do not call me ‘you’.”

She looked at him flatly. “I heard that little red pervert say my name. What did she say about me?”

Vandar, give me strength. Robbert had no interest in their petty squabbles. “Call me ‘you’ again and I’ll have you thrown overboard.” He spun and continued down the corridor, and almost ran right into Lank as he came loping down the stairs.

“Ah, Robb, was just coming to tell you…”

“About the dragon,” Robbert said. “The Whaleheart just informed us.”

“Droyn saw it from the crow’s nest. He’s with Bloodhound now, and Gullimer. Apparently there are…”

“Some whales out there, coming our way,” Robb finished for him.

Sir Lothar Tunney gave a bemused laugh. “Well, it seems I’m not needed around here anymore. Might as well un-swear you my sword and take a ship to the Telleshis. Join a clan of outcasts…one with some pretty maids, ideally. Might get a year or two of fun before the war finds me.”

“Months more like. And you’d only sink on the way. And good luck finding a girl who fancies you, Lank. Women don’t tend to swoon over giraffes.”

“I was good enough for your sister. She fancied me.”

Robbert laughed aloud. The notion of it. “Keep dreaming, Lothar.” He strode right past him and out into the daylight, and the fog of noise on deck. The tall knight followed, easily keeping up with that absurd stride of his as Robb fought his way through the sailors and soldiers, some at work, others idle, and returned to the quarterdeck where the captain stood working the wheel and barking commands. The seas were uneasy, but big as Hammer was, she drove across the waves smoothly enough. Lord Gullimer was there with Sir Kester Droyn, the former in his essentials of armour and green and red cloak, the latter in light leathers to better scale the rigging. Dryon was a fearless sort, and had happily scampered up to the nest to keep lookout, taking a godsteel dagger with him to improve his sight. His blood-bond granted him particularly good vision, Robb knew.

“I heard about the dragon,” the prince said, arriving. “Where was it, Droyn? Point out exactly where you saw it.”

The knight of Smallweather obeyed. His finger gestured to the cliffs above his fleet. “Right there, my prince. I lost sight of it when it came down to land.”

“And it hasn’t been seen since?”

“No, my lord.”

Robbert nodded. “How about these greatwhales, Captain?”

“Cruising,” Bloodhound said.

“Cruising?” Robb repeated. “Or closing?”

“Bit of both. I don’t get the sense that they’re hostile. Not against us, at least.”

“Then who?” asked Lothar.

“Krakens,” Robbert said. “Whales hate krakens, Lank.”

“Aye,” agreed Burton. “That’s something old Bloodhound shares with them. Ever since I sailed with King Lorin as a boy.” He smiled. “You have heard about that, haven’t you? My days as a nipper riding the waves with the king?” He saw the look on Robbert’s face. “Well, reckon I might have mentioned it once or twice in the prince’s hearing, and this lanky knight here too, but not you, Lord Gullimer.”