“We’re well supplied.” The boy smiled all the while. “You’ve got good sea legs, my lady,” he observed. “Much better than the rest of these Tukorans.” He gestured to the soldiers, slipping and stumbling about the decks as they headed for the ladders. “Guess that’s the Seaborn in you.”

She frowned at him. “Where did you hear about that?”

“There’s a rumour going around. Though I knew anyway. I always know a Seaborn when I see one.” He puffed his chest out proudly.

Saska chose not to comment on all that as she paced swiftly up the stairs to the quarterdeck. No matter what she did, or had others do for her, eventually the truth of her birth would come pouring forth and when it did it would be like the breaking of a dam and soon everyone would know. She sensed that time was upon them now, with so many men about, and the Surgeon could hardly kill them all. No, let them find out, she thought. As much as they had to shield the truth of who she was in the south from those who might use it against her, in the north it would be different. They have to know who I am. They have to know so they’ll accept me and help me.

One of those people was at the helm with the captain; the Crown Prince of Tukor, Robbert Lukar, who might already be king. He had turned cold on her over the last couple of days, avoiding her gaze and being conveniently busy whenever she sought his company. And all over a silly misunderstanding. Saska was not about to let this awkwardness between them endure. She strode right up to him and slipped her arm through his, in the same way she’d seen Talasha do it. “How about this weather, then?” she said, smiling to make light of it.

It was poorly judged, she knew at once. “I lost two dozen ships to storms…and thousands of men,” Robbert said, unamused. “I don’t think it’s anything to joke about.”

“No.” It was not a good start. “I just meant…I was trying to…” She was not made for this, she realised. With a tug she drew him aside, away from Burton and Sir Lothar and Lord Gullimer, who were also there, and decided to just speak plainly. “Look, Robb, we need to clear the air. Enough of this awkwardness. It’s childish.”

“What awkwardness?” he asked, stiffly. “I don’t feel awkward. Do you?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy. If you haven’t noticed, I have an army to manage.”

A small army, she thought, and an even smaller fleet. It would not serve to say that out loud, though. “I know. You’ve got a lot on your plate. But we’ve barely spoken for two days. There are things…there are things you need to know.”

That piqued his interest well enough, though he tried to show he didn’t care. “Oh? And what are those?”

“You know what. The truth. You said you wanted the truth from me, but I never gave it to you.” They’d all been distracted by the return of Talasha and Ranulf, and after that Robbert had given her the cold shoulder. The rest of that day had been spent on preparations to leave. Provisions were gathered and water barrels were filled and the sick were brought aboard. Then the following morning Captain Burton put his finger to the wind, declared the day good for sailing, and off they went in their little fleet of four, cruising beneath the stone sculpture of Calacan and up past the Horn of Aramatia under sails in brown and green and black. Now here they were, one day later, facing rough seas and stormy skies as they pushed on into the Three Bays, making for the Vandarian coast. “I want you to know,” Saska finished. “Everything. Like you asked.”

The prince peered at her doubtfully. “Why now, all of a sudden? Are you trying to keep me onside, is that it?”

Yes, she thought. That was definitely it. But she shook her head. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for two days, but you never have time for me.”

“I’ve been busy, like I said.” He was at risk of seeming petty, he seemed to realise, so raised his chin nobly and said, “Well, you’ve got my ear now. So you can start by telling me where you’re going. North, you only said. Well, we’re on our way now and it’d be nice if Bloodhound had more to go on than that.” He turned his eyes into the teeth of the wind and rain; it was coming down from the north, much colder and sharper than the warm rains they’d had in the south. “We might be able to take you to the Rasalanian coast if we can push through this weather. It isn’t so far, and I’d be willing to divert if that’s what you want. But you have to tell me now, Saska.”

She had no intention of going to Rasalan. There was nothing for her there. “I’ll step ashore the same place as you, Robbert,” she told him.

His brow furrowed. “We’re making for the Marshlands. The fighting could still be fierce there.”

“I know.”

“And yet you still want to come with us?”

She nodded. What Ranulf told them had changed everything and she knew now where her path would take her. For long months they’d known only that they must find a way north and try to gather the Blades of Vandar, never knowing how they would be reforged. Now they did. They knew who and they knew where, and so far as Rolly said it, they must make for Ilith’s refuge at once. Once there they would be able to take stock and consider their next course, but they must get there first. Saska knew what would happen next. Rolly would have her remain there in the mountains while he and others went off to fetch the blades for her. He hadn’t said it outright yet but she knew what he was thinking. Why risk her, when there was a hidden sanctuary where she’d be safe, protected by ancient and powerful magic and watched over by a demigod?

There was plenty of sense in that, she knew that of course, but Saska did not want to hide in some mountain while others went out and died for her. No. If she was truly Varin’s heir she must act like it, and face what perils she may. It’s my task. My duty, she told herself. I have to be the one to gather those blades and persuade their bearers to give them up.

The lurch of the ship intruded on her thoughts as Hammer crashed through a rising wave. That put a pause on their conversation as both Saska and Robbert turned their eyes about. The seas were growing rougher. Hills rose up about them in grey and blue, tipped with snow-white peaks, all moving and undulating chaotically. The skies were turning black with rainclouds and there were flashes of lighting out there.

Saska didn’t like what she was seeing. “This is bad,” she said. Something tickled at the nape of her neck, some shiver she couldn’t put her finger on. She could feel some menace in the air.

Robbert nodded. “It started like this last time.” He stepped back over to the helm, Saska following. “Bloodhound. I don’t like that look on your face. How bad is this going to get?”

The captain did not answer at once. His nostrils were opening, closing, and his eyes were narrowed to slits. “There’s a stink in the air I don’t like,” he growled. “And not from Sir Lank’s breeches either.” His eyes swayed over the ocean. “Those whales are still trailing us. Same ones as before. There’s good and bad in that.”

Saska wasn’t certain where the good was. She’d seen hundreds of wrecks over the last few weeks and did not doubt that pods of grouchy greatwhales had been responsible for a good many of them. “Aren’t they hostile?” she asked. If they were, they’d have attacked by now. She assumed that must be the ‘good’ part.

“Not to us,” was the captain’s answer. “They’re here for something else.”

Something else. Something worse. That would be the ‘bad’ and they all knew what it was.

“Kraken,” Sir Lothar said, swallowing. “Is there a kraken out there, Burton?”

The captain nodded, squinting. “Aye. And a big one.”

“Where?” Robbert demanded.

The captain did not need to answer. No sooner had Robbert asked the question than a great splash erupted from the waters off to starboard, sending up a frothing white plume two hundred feet high. A flash of black limbs caught the light, slick and slimy and enormous, tussling with a huge shadow that thrashed wildly beneath the waves. Everyone turned at once to look, and down the ship someone bellowed, “Kraken! Kraken!” and a dozen others echoed the cry. In an instant men were rushing to the mounted harpoon guns and handing out throwing spears and tridents, taking their positions at the gunwales, shrill shouts spilling thinly into the air beneath the low deep bellow of the storm.

Sir Lothar Tunney looked out, wide-eyed. If he hadn’t soiled his breeches before, perhaps now he had, by that look on his face. “A whale. It…it killed a greatwhale like it was nothing.”

“Aye. A big one, as I say.”

The water was turning red. Through the tumbling black rain Saska could see it bubbling and boiling from below. Fins slashed through the surf, coming and going between the waves as the greatwhales went on the attack. Burton grabbed the wheel and spun it, shouting, “Hard to port!” and Hammer turned, groaning and shifting as men set their feet and clung on. Bells rang out from the crow’s nest and the main deck, relaying orders to the other ships as Blood Bear, Blackthorn and Wild Raven all swung about as well, their decks a chaos of rushing, shouting men.

Saska turned to look behind them, her fingers grasping at the gunwale to steady her. Her knuckles were turning white. There was a dry lump in her throat that no amount of swallowing seemed able to shift. The waters back there were a rage of fins and tentacles, shadows and blood. One of the whales was floating dead on the surface, buffeted by hissing white-caps and sheets of salt spray. Blood sluiced out from a thousand sucker-cup cuts and gashes all over its great grey body. It did not look small and yet had been crushed and strangled just like that. A monster, Saska thought, shivering. This was no normal kraken.

Sir Kester Droyn raced up the rigging to the crow’s nest with a godsteel dagger between his teeth. He scrambled inside and peered out with eagle eyes, snatching the dagger into his grasp. Saska could hear him shouting from up there, his voice cutting through the din of the storm. “Another whale down, Captain!” he bellowed. “I see a dozen out there…they’re ramming it…charging…”

Bloodhound nodded, jaw tight, eyes narrow. Saska glimpsed more black arms thrashing from the waters, slapping and swatting and grasping at the whales as they drove in from all sides.

“They’re not going to hold it” Droyn called down. “It’s too big. They can’t match it, Captain!”

“Land!” Sir Lothar Tunney shouted in a panic. “We have to make for land, Burton!”

“There is no land.” Bloodhound scanned the waters, judging the seas. Some waves were large enough to turn them over if they were caught on the broadside. “Humbert!” he roared. “Humbert, here, now!”

The first mate came dashing from the main deck, panting. “Cap.”

“Shallows? Are there any shallows nearby?”

“Not for miles, Ash. There’s no running from this thing.”

The captain nodded grimly. That seemed to set his mind on the matter. A crash of footsteps heralded the arrival of Sir Ralston as the Wall came thundering up onto the quarterdeck. He went straight for Saska. “To your cabin,” he bellowed at her. “Right now.”

She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t be a fool. There’s nothing you can do to help here.” The giant was armoured in steel from head to heel and his eyes were steel as well. He went to grab her arm and tugged her toward the stairs. The mists about her silver-blue blade were moving wildly, beating like a heart, faster…faster.

Bloodhound saw them, squinting, then turned his eyes on Saska and said, “You get to your cabin like he says, girl. That kraken…he’s here for you.”

Saska baulked. “Me?”