The ceiling of the great cavern was twinkling with luminescent moss when she stepped out onto the beach. It was beautiful, like a starlit sky, glowing in hues of green and blue and sometimes pale shades of pink and purple as well. Beyond the shore, the waters moved serenely within the vast cave in which the island was situated, gently drifting out toward the mouth where the river wended away to the lake, miles away. While Amara had been given free rein to walk the island at her will, the same was not true of the others. They were limited in their wanderings, and watched at all times, permitted only to visit the beach on the eastern edge of the island-within-the-cave, and the little village of huts and shelters built along the shore.

At the edge of the village, a small beach hut had been provided for their use. Inside were bunks built into the walls, a trestle table between them with benches on either side. It was much alike to a ship cabin, Amara had noted when first she’d seen it. Later, the longboat captain who’d taken them to Varinar and back - and who still refused to give her his name - had told her that she was right. “We ripped it out of a galley, this one,” he’d said. “Same with half the huts here. All taken from this ship or that.”

Two guards were standing outside. Both were Bladeborn. One was an old knight, dressed in his former house cloak and colours of green and yellow, frayed and stained and sun-scorched. The other was a sellsword, much younger and chirpier, garbed in a godsteel shirt of mail over boiled leathers.

“Sir Talmer,” Amara said to the knight, a grim-faced man of stocky build who’d served under Lord Wallis Kanabar once, he had said. His house name was Hedgeside, a name chosen by his ancestor, who’d been a hedge knight for long years before winning acclaim during some war. For his service he was granted an estate, servants, and the accompanying lands and incomes by Lord Morris Kanabar, who was the Lord of the Riverlands at the time. He was also given the chance to choose his own name, and took on Hedgeside in honour of all his nights spent sleeping under hedges. Amara liked the tale. That old hedge knight had a sense of humour that his descendent seems to lack. “You’re still here, I see.”

The old knight nodded. “My duty isn’t over yet. Will be here till dawn, my lady.”

“All night? Oh, how rotten.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it by now.”

Amara looked to his companion for the evening, a sellsword named Benjy Barrett. ‘Brazen’ Ben Barrett he liked to call himself, in that cocksure way common among his kind. He had overlarge ears, and oversized teeth, that made him look rather like a rabbit. “Brazen Ben,” she said to him. “Tell me a story of sellsword adventure.”

The rabbit grinned at her. “My lady, be glad to. But I reckon Sir Talmer here might object.”

Amara had the same sense. Sir Talmer was a sour man, though his old acquaintance with Wallis Kanabar was something she was trying to use. “Perhaps next time, then.” She leaned in. “If Sir Talmer should close his eyes for a moment, feel free to join us inside, Ben. I know Carly would appreciate it.”

“Oh?” Ben’s eyes showed his interest. “She mentioned me, did she?”

“Oh, Ben. She’s always talking about you. A fellow sellsword and all?” A smile played about her lips as she nudged his arm. then she pulled the door and stepped inside.

The others were bathed in firelight, a torch flickering on the end wall, where a window looked out over the twinkling water. All sat at the benches, facing one another across the table, sharing a jug of mead and some plates of salted fish and bread. Sir Connor and Sir Penrose were on one side, Carly and Jovyn on the other. All had been stripped of their armour and weapons and given hempen shirts and shifts instead. Carly, of course, looked fetching anyway. That girl would look gorgeous lathered in dung.

“How’d it go with Lord Lard?” Sir Connor asked, shifting down the bench so Amara might sit.

She took her place next to him, as Sir Penrose poured her a cup of mead, and slid it down the table. “Thank you, Pen.” She had a sip and answered Sir Connor’s question. “Not well, I’m afraid. I asked if he would grant us a longship again, and he said, ‘no and no and no again. I tell you no, my lady’. He says that a lot.”

“He likes the word ‘no’,” Connor Crawfield muttered. “So, what now?”

Amara looked to the door, wondering if Brazen Ben and Sir Talmer might be listening. She could not say how good their hearing was with godsteel, though even without it, if they put their ears to the door, their voices might just carry. So she leaned in, gesturing for the others to do the same, and reduced her voice to a whisper. “He’s never going to let us go,” she told them, their five faces so close they almost kissed. “He made that clear tonight. He’s scared, of the dragons. His borders are closed, he insists.”

“They’re not his borders,” Sir Connor snorted. “These islands belong to the crown, not some fat pirate on an oaken throne.”

Jovyn nodded briskly. “There are enough knights here to depose him, my lady. Men of honour. If you ask them, they’ll serve you. You’re the sister of the king.”

“They don’t care for kings out here,” Carly said to that, blowing a lock of flaming red hair from her eyes. “That’s why they came here in the first place. These men aren’t knights anymore, Jovy. They’re traitors and cravens, who have come out here to hide.”

“We only need a few,” Sir Connor said. “Even one might do. Someone who can get us to the armoury. After that, we’ll do the rest.”

Amara was torn on that. “If we take up arms against the whale, some, even all of us could die. He’s got a score of Bladeborn in his ranks.”

“Weak Bladeborn, my lady. There are two or three knights of good bloodlines here, I’ll grant, but the rest...no. We’ll deal with them easily enough.”

“He has a hundred soldiers too,” Amara said. “More, probably, out on the boats and dispersed across the islands.” The Great One might have an army of thousands, for all she knew. This main island was but one of many, all with secret coves and hideouts. Some of the islands even connected to one another underground, she’d heard, with tunnels and caverns excavated beneath the bottom of the lake. She wondered if that might be their best way out of here. “I haven’t yet been to the back of the Lard Lord’s palace, but I’m certain there’s a way down into the tunnels from there,” she told the others. “We might be able to escape that way.”

Sir Connor didn’t think so. “We have no idea what’s down there. We could run into an entire garrison, or something else we cannot anticipate. And where would we come out? My lady, I fear that option leads only to more questions. The best way off this island is by longboat.”

“The oars are chained and guarded, Connor,” Amara told him. “Every time a longship comes ashore, they lock those oars away. And besides, there are only five of us. We would be chased down for a certainty and recaptured. The Blubber King promises he will make an example of us if he should catch us trying to leave.”

“Then we kill him,” said Carly, squeezing a fist. “The walking whale needs to die, my lady. I doubt many here would miss him.”

Amara didn’t disagree, except for the ‘walking’ part. The whale had never walked, so far as she had seen. Any time she was summoned to join him, he was either seated on his huge oaken throne or stuffing his face at his table. On the odd occasion she’d seen him outside of his palace, he’d been lying on a litter, hauled about by a host of strong men. Where he went, she couldn’t say. To the water, possibly. He had the look of a seal, after all. Perhaps he swims like one too?

The others were nodding assent. “Killing him is the only way,” Sir Connor Crawfield said. “We all know the idiom about cutting the head off the snake. It applies here, my lady.”

“And his men? Those loyal to him? What do you imagine they will say to that?”

“They will voice their displeasure with blades and blood, I would think. But those will be few. Carly is not wrong. I’ve heard the talk about the village, and from some of the soldiers as well. The whale is not well-loved.”

“No,” Amara said, agreeing. She remembered the look the maidservant gave the food. The Lord of Lard’s ‘children’, as he liked to call them, did not eat half so well as their father did. Eating those feelings of yours will not endear you to your people, my lord. “There are other pirate lords on the other islands,” she said. “Lesser lords who pay the Seal King fealty. When he dies there will be a power struggle. The people may wish to avoid that, Connor. Sometimes it is better the devil you know.”

“Not a devil who feasts nightly while his people sit and starve. He is a cancer of these islands, and needs to be removed. You spoke before of the boats, passing through the lake. I have heard some of the sailors talking about them too. Most avoid the mists about these islands, but not all. These are people, good people fleeing from the war, and what is becoming of them? They are being warded off, or worse, killed. These islands could become a haven for thousands, even tens of thousands, but no, the whale refuses.”

The others nodded. Carly slammed a fist on the table. Their voices were starting to rise a little, so Amara put a finger to her lips, instructing silence. Then they all looked to the door, listening, and Jovyn, who was sitting across the table in front of her, rose from the bench and put his ear to the wood. After a long moment he turned to them, and shook his head. “I don’t think anyone’s listening,” he whispered, creeping back to retake his seat.

Amara thought it all through. The Lord of Lard needed to die, that was clear, the islands opened for others to come. Perhaps the seneschal could be entrusted with that? Slimy sycophant though he was, he had the bearing of a survivor, in the same way a cockroach does. Kill his master and threaten him with the same fate, and most likely he would yield. Amara put that to the group, and received a round of nods.

“He’ll need strong swords about him,” Sir Connor said. “To make sure there is no power struggle. If not some other pirate tyrant will just continue the Seal King’s work.”

Amara took the point, though in truth there would be nothing they could do to prevent that. She did not mean to stay or lend her aid in this endeavour. That said… “When we return to Varinar, we can spread the word that these islands may offer safe refuge,” she proposed. “A strong cohort of trusted Vandarian soldiers ought to quell any power struggle, if that does occur.”

More nods. But first they needed to overthrow the sack of suet and that required some thinking. She looked each of her faithful protectors in the eye - gloomy Connor Crawfield and spirited Penrose Brightwood, Carly Flame Mane, so fierce and feisty, Jovyn, quietly assured. “There are two Bladeborn men who guard the door to the palace. His best and bravest, I would think, utterly loyal to him and deadly with godsteel to grasp. Getting past them will not be easy.”

“It will be for me,” Carly said. “Get me a godsteel dagger, and I’ll see this done. I’ll be in and out, quick as that.” She clipped her fingers. “They’ll never even know I was there.”

Amara had to smile at the girl’s confidence. She hadn’t even seen the palace, or entered the grove of trees in which it had been grown, yet she backed herself all the same. “There are other guardsmen that pepper the way. I don’t see how you would be able to sneak past them all without detection, Carly.” She could describe the layout, tell the girl everything she’d seen, but that would only get them so far. There were likely to be guards in places she didn’t see, and if a single one of them raised the alarm, the whale would escape his well-earned fate and make an example of them, as he’d promised.

No, we have to be smarter than that.

“We need help, my lady,” Sir Connor said. “Perhaps we might be able to rush the men outside right now, and take their weapons, but even if so, there would not be enough arms to go around and we would be quickly overwhelmed. We need to get access to the armoury.”

The armoury was across the island, Amara knew, under guard at all times. Getting there without sufficient help would be impossible. She picked up her cup of mead and took a long drink, trying to puzzle it out. She could see no other way than waiting, right now. Much as it pained her, they needed more time to win allies, and that process was not a fast one, lest they show their hand too early.

“Sir Talmer may be willing,” she said. “I have told him of Lord Kanabar’s death at the Bane, and I saw the look in his eyes when I did. He fought for Wallis during the last war, and may wish to reenter this one. It may be time to ask him outright. I feel, at least, he would be a man to tender a warning, before speaking of our plans to Lord Lard.”

“That would make one,” Connor said. “We’ll need more.”

“Brazen Ben. He has a thing for Carly.” Amara looked at the fiery sellsword. “Keep flirting with him, and he may bend. I do not think he would join us alone, but if we can muster a few others, I think he would help.”

Jovyn was peering at the door. “They’re both outside now, my lady. Brazen Ben and Sir Talmer.”

“I know. I spoke to them before I entered.”

“Maybe we should speak to them now,” Carly said. “Invite them both in for a little chit-chat?”

Amara shook her head. That two of the men most likely to join them were stationed outside their door was no coincidence, she didn’t imagine. The Lord of Seals was more wily than he looked, and might have placed them there as bait. Or he may not, she thought. Was she giving the oaf too much credit? She didn’t know for certain, though was not quite ready to take that risk. We must be smart, she thought again.