Everyone remained silent from then on as the flying disk sped through the dark, cloudy sky, a barrier of magical force deflecting the large heavy raindrops that would otherwise have hit them like grapeshot. They entered the storm that had hit the island of the Oracle the night before and the skies darkened as stronger winds began to buffet them. They flew through the clouds, deep enough within them that they could not be seen from below, just in case there was anyone out on the sea below them, but close enough to the open air below that they could see the sea themselves. After about fifteen minutes they felt themselves slowing down, and they dropped out of the clouds to see the warship ahead of them.

It was nearly five hundred feet long, and looked far too stately and elegant to possibly be a warship as it cut easily through waves that would have thrown a smaller ship around like a piece of driftwood. Its nature was unmistakable as they drew closer, however, and they saw the catapults, ballistae and other weaponry that littered its decks, as well as the militaristic markings all over its billowing sails. The oak tree of Belthar, the golden Griffin of the church of Samnos, the seahorse of Seaton and the coat of arms of the Baddow line, which normally made luxury clippers but had helped in the construction of this vessel as well. Belthar was not a naval power, being almost completely land locked and surrounded by mountains, but as one of its provinces was on the coast of the Western Sea, it had a duty to help protect it from the pirates that infested those waters, and as it had almost no naval expertise of its own it had enlisted the aid of Ilandia's foremost commercial shipbuilders. Old man Baddow had agreed to help enthusiastically. Having a few warships to his name did no end of good for his business reputation.

Since the equatorial waters of the Western Sea were prone to long periods of calm weather, during which the wind would hardly blow for days or even weeks at a time, the warship had over two hundred rowing ports along each side, the oars currently stored inside the ship until needed. They looked ridiculous on such a large ship when they were in use, but being unable to move was a great handicap in a sea battle against pirate triremes that were completely independent of the wind, and so some form of propulsion in calm weather was essential. Even though such a large ship took a long time to get going using oar power alone, once it was going its own momentum was enough to keep it going, and that was usually enough to avoid disaster at the hands of the enemy. Even motionless, however, the great warship was no pushover for even the largest pirate ships, and even Lantellan storm sharks knew better than to tangle with them.

The ship carried no ram, being so big that it could not possibly maneuver quickly enough to use it. Instead, the prow of the ship sported the largest catapult any of them had ever seen. It had a throwing arm thirty feet long and, according to Kay's Book of Fighting Ships, which Thomas had devoured during his time at the University, was capable of hurling a shot weighing over a ton a distance of five hundred yards. This was made possible only by the super strong elastic fibres invented by the trog alchemists, and even so it was not very accurate and took
several minutes to reload and use again. It was designed for shore bombardment rather than attacking other ships, but could be used in a naval battle by throwing a cluster of smaller rocks instead of one big one.

Although it carried no ram of its own, it was defended against enemy rams by a three foot thick strip of ironwood that ran all around its waterline, from two yards above the water to three yards below it. No ram carried by any ship in the world could penetrate it, but some ships were known to carry rams lower than normal that penetrated the hull below the ram strip. Ships with this kind of ram were thankfully rare as yet, and the warship's strategy if it ever met one would simply be to sink it before it could get too close.

The top of the stern castle was a flat platform with yellow circles painted on it, the flying platform's landing pad. As they dropped towards it, they saw another sitting there being made ready to leave, and as they landed next to it, it took off, rising rapidly until it was lost in the low cloud deck. As soon as the flying disk was safely landed Quesin opened his eyes, stretched and stood up. "Ahhh!" he sighed as the barrier of magic force around the disk dissipated and rain began hitting them. "Every time I fly that thing it wears me out more. I'm gonna catch forty winks. See you later."

He waved goodbye to the others, left the disk through a gate that opened in the rail and headed for the stairs down to the main deck. Before he could reach it, however, an officer in a heavy raincoat came storming up with a troop of security guards. "What in the name of Hell is going on here?" he demanded.

"Their boat was sinking, so we rescued them," said Silan, grinning sheepishly. "They recognised the spy platform and knew the ship must be nearby, so we had to bring them back here."

The officer glared at the six travelers with a face like thunder. "Take them below," he snapped.

The guards came forward to take them each by the elbow and urge them none too gently towards a hatch leading inside. As they climbed down the stairs, they heard Silan saying, "Well, what were we supposed to do, just let them drown?"

They were taken down into the very bowels of the great warship where they were locked in the brig, a dingy little room with walls made of great thick beams of oak and which was illuminated only by what light managed to trickle in through the small window in the door. Their weapons were taken, but they were allowed to keep their backpacks and the wizards pulled their spellbooks out to make sure no water had penetrated their oilskin wrappings. Relieved to find that they were still dry and safe, they hid them away again before a passing sailor saw them. It would probably be best if no-one knew they were wizards for the time being.

"Well, what do we do now?" asked Shaun, looking at Thomas accusingly.

"Wait and see what happens," replied the wizard. "It's better than drowning, isn't it? You know we couldn't have swum all the way to that island. We're still alive, that's all that matters."

"If you'd kept your big mouth shut, we'd be safely back on Greenwing island by now!"

"Yes, I know! I'm sorry! What more can I say?"

An awkward silence fell as they waited to see what would happen next. After a few minutes Diana tried to call the guard, but he ignored them, merely glancing up before returning to his bored examination of the opposite wall. She tried again, but Thomas advised her to give up. "That's no simple sailor," he said. "That's a Senn Guard. I've seen them before, in Ilandia. See the tattoo on his forehead? He's a murderer or something, offered Senn conditioning as an alternative to the death penalty. It makes them totally loyal and incorruptible, with no free will of their own. You can't argue with them. You can't beg or reason. Don't worry, someone will be along soon, to interrogate us. You'll have your chance to argue your case then."

The cleric stared at him, then nodded and sat down on the hard, wooden cot at the back of the cell.

Before long, though, they heard footsteps approaching and she stood again, moving forward to the iron bars of the wall. A man in a Captain's uniform arrived, followed by half a dozen heavily armed guards. The Captain would probably have been found handsome by most women, being tall, clean shaven and square jawed. His eyes were steel grey and piercing, but the crows feet around them told the travelers that he spent a lot of time smiling and laughing and they relaxed in relief, giving silent thanks to the Gods that he seemed like a decent man. He would surely let them go as soon as he learned who they were and that they weren't a threat to his ship.

"My name is Captain Temple," he said as one of his men opened the door and let them out. "Welcome aboard the Prince Fennerel. Ensign Silan has given me a full report of all that happened, and I'm satisfied that you're not spies. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and rather too smart for your own good."

"Thanks," said Shaun. "Does that mean we can go now?"

"I'm afraid not," said the Captain, and the travelers tensed up in alarm. "You see, my ship's presence here is top secret. We're on a sensitive diplomatic mission, and it could have very serious consequences if the wrong people found out about it. We just can't have civilians running around knowing all about us."

"We wouldn't tell anyone, I promise," said Diana. "You have the word of a cleric of Caroli."

"Meaning no offence to you or the Gods," said the Captain, "but I just can't take the risk. I'm afraid you'll have to stay with us until we reach our destination. We'll let you go then. By then, it will be too late for our enemies to take advantage of the situation."

"You don't understand," protested Diana. "We're also on a very important mission, and time is vital!"

"Then I'm afraid it'll just have to wait," insisted the Captain, turning to leave.

"It won't wait!" repeated Diana. "Listen..."

She hurriedly told him all about the renewed threat from the Shadow and the imminent invasion. He looked at her strangely, almost as if he believed her. "So what were you doing in the middle of the Lonely Isles?" he asked.

"I, I can't tell you," she stammered, trying to tell him about the Emerald Oracle but unable to. The hypnotic blocks placed by the Oracle were too strong, and the look of almost belief in the Captain's eyes faded away. He obviously thought that she was deluded, a little bit wrong in the head. She may not even be a proper cleric, she could see him thinking. The fact that she's wearing a caroli flower doesn't mean anything. Some people just wear them for luck.

"We can give you the exact strength and composition of the Shadowarmies," said Shaun aggressively, not liking what he knew the Captain was thinking.

"Yes, I just bet you can," said Temple under his breath. ""Mister Quill?" One of the men who'd come with him stepped forward and the Captain began telling him to find cabins for the travelers.

Shaun was insistent, though. "Listen, I don't care if you believe me or not, but I'm going to tell you anyway. Write it down and please pass it on to your superiors. It doesn't matter whether you believe it or not. One day you'll need the information, and you'll be glad you've got it. Okay?"

At Shaun's insistence, the Captain agreed, obviously just to humour him, but Shaun didn't care. As Thomas repeated the figures as accurately as he could remember them, Temple wrote them down in his notebook, frowning as he did so. This had better all be a lot of nonsense, Shaun could see him thinking. If these figures are accurate, we're all in big trouble.

The Captain hesitated in doubt, staring at Diana, then at the wizards. It was a stare the questers had become familiar with in the months they'd been travelling together. Diana, as a genuine cleric, had an aura of holiness that other people could sense, and wizards also stood out from the common herd. There was something about them it was impossible to put one's finger on but which people could sense, marking them out as being somehow apart from general humanity. Then there was the fact that their group contained a nome and a woman with shayen blood. People of different races almost never travelled together. When they did, it meant that they had a tale worth telling, a tale that others would do well to listen to.

The questers held their breaths as they watched the thoughts passing through the Captain's head. Watched him weighing conflicting considerations. Would he believe them? Would he let them go? He was a ship's Captain, though, and the questers knew that his first duty would be to his ship and his crew. He would have some latitude for independent action but his strongest drive would be to obey his orders. Even as they watched, they saw his expression hardening and they slumped in despair as he came to a decision.

"As you were, Mister Quill," he said therefore. He turned back to the questers. "I apologise for the need to detain you, but it needn't be an unpleasant stay. If you'll come with me, I think we can put you in the visitors' staterooms."