The Winterwells, who didn't know the area, had expected to follow the river all the way to the sea, where they expected to find Ilandia's largest seaport, grown fat on the trade between the capital and the other cities of the river and the coast. Thomas produced the atlas, though, and showed them the large area of impenetrable fenland where the river widened out into a broad delta. The last hundred miles of the river before it reached the sea was completely impassable, either on foot or by boat, and the road left it at the town of Belton, striking off to the west and meandering through forest and farmland until it reached the coast.

Ilandia was divided into two main regions. A large central area surrounding Tatria, which contained the largest, most prosperous cities, and a smaller coastal region of which Seaton was the largest city. Between these two regions lay a belt of dense woodland only sparsely populated, in which pockets of dangerous wildlife managed to survive. As they passed through this area the caravan was attacked by a gang of highwaymen armed with arrows and crossbows and a brief battle was fought between them and Crowley's armed escort of thirty men.

Although the six travelers played their part in the caravan's defence, they were not really needed as Crowley's escort was more them sufficient to see them off, only one of the defenders having been hurt, an injury that Diana quickly healed. One of the caravan drivers explained that these attacks were almost routine and that, although they occasionally succeeded in capturing a few wagons, they were not really worth worrying about. They attacked on the off chance that the wagons would be poorly defended, which they sometimes were when Crowley had a better use for his men elsewhere, or was temporarily too hard up for cash to afford them.

"Is Seaton a large town?" Lirenna asked Tom as their wagon bounced along the uneven road of hard, dry mud.

"It's Ilandia's second largest city," Thomas replied. "At least in terms of population, but it covers a larger area, much more open and spacious than Andor. It doesn't have a city wall, you see. It's so far from the border that they didn't think it needed one. You won't find it as smelly and squalid as Andor."

"Have you ever been there?"

"Just once, before I went to Lexandria. It was the furthest I'd ever been from home, I must have been about nine or ten, so far as I can remember. My father had some kind of business there, I can't remember what, and he took me along just for the hell of it. Plenty of my neighbours come here regularly , though. There was this one kid, Pete Picker, who's dad was a travelling salesman for the brewery and his dad would take him all over the country, even to Rahm once. He was our best source of information about the outside world. Most of what I know about Seaton comes from him, assuming he wasn't just making it up as he went along."

"So what did he say about Seaton?"

"That it stank of fish. I don't think he liked it much. May have had something to do with his dad getting in trouble with the Council of Barons. Something to do with not having a license for something, as far as I could gather."

"You like your Barons, don't you? Do all Ilandian towns have them?"

"Just one per town usually, to ensure the High Prefect's orders are carried out. Seaton used to be six towns, though, that merged together as they grew, so it has six of them."

"Must be rather confusing, What if they disagree about something?"

"I don't think that happens very often. All they really care about is that there's plenty of food on the table and something warm and soft in their beds. Being a Baron is just a way of having everything you want without having to work for a living."

Pete Picker was right about the smell, as they discovered later that day as they came within sight of the first of the outlying buildings. The smell of the sea was carried on the light breeze that blew from the coast, and gulls picked through the rubbish in every street. They followed the caravan road through the centre of the great port city, past all the great public buildings and the crowds of merchants, tradesmen and citizens that bustled around between them. The main road itself was kept clear, the crowds held back by a rope barrier, to ensure free passage for the endless procession of merchant caravans making their way to and from the docklands, and they fell in behind one, knowing that it would lead them to where they wanted to go. Sure enough, an hour later they came in sight of the sea itself and they felt a tingle of excitement as they felt the warm salty wind on their faces, heard the screams and cries of thousands of gulls and saw the heaving, greenish grey ocean stretching ahead of them like some kind of vast, restless monster.

They approached the docks, where the merchant navy lay at anchor. This part of Seaton's seaboard was protected by a seawall, built just over fifty years ago when the coast of Ilandia had been lashed by a freak hurricane that had drifted much further north than usual. Two thirds of all the ships anchored at Seaton had been wrecked, and in order to reassure the foreign merchants upon whose trade Seaton, indeed all Ilandia, was dependent, the Council of Barons had ordered the construction of a sea wall to protect the ships at harbour in the event of the same thing happening again.

The original intention had been for the wall to stretch the entire five miles of Seaton's seafront but, like most good intentioned projects dreamed up on the spur of the moment, it had run out of money and never been completed. Only the central two miles, covering the moorings of the merchant fleet, were covered. The rest, where the huge fishing fleet lay at anchor, remained unprotected. This, of course, came as no surprise to anyone. Every couple of years, a motion was passed in the House of Residents to complete the wall, but somehow nothing ever came of it.

They stopped before a likely looking ship, a broad beamed vessel that was being loaded with boxes, barrels and crates by a dozen or so muscular, sweaty fellows. It flew the flag of a Malan shipping company from the rearmost of its three masts and gave the appearance of being a clean, tidy, well run affair. Several sailors were strolling about, inspecting things and shouting commands to the stevedors as they carefully lowered the cargo into the hold, and another man was polishing the ballista that stood proudly on the ship's prow. Shaun pointed it out to the others. "That's some crossbow," he said in awe.

"That's how ships fight each other," replied Thomas. "The bolts it shoots can punch their way clear through a ship's hull, and they can be wrapped in oil soaked rags and set ablaze to increase the damage. I've heard they can also be tipped with poison to kill sea beasts. Some ships carry catapults as well, to shower burning gravel on an enemy ship."

"Or a great big rock," said Matthew thoughtfully.

"If you get the aim right " agreed Thomas. "If you miss, though, you just make a great big splash."

Shaun approached one of the sailors. "Excuse me," he said, "Could you please tell us where we can find the Captain?"

"You don't want to disturb the Captain," said the sailor. "He'll be in his cabin, doing his blessed paperwork. Very angry he'll be if you go bothering him while he's doing his paperwork. It's the first mate you'll be wanting. That's him over there."

He pointed to a smartly dressed man standing on the forecastle, talking to a younger man who was also uniformed. Shaun thanked him and they made their way up the gangplank.

They walked across the clean, freshly scrubbed deck, watched all the way by suspicious sailors. They climbed the steps to the forecastle and waited patiently for the first mate to notice them. It didn't take long. The conversation stopped and both men regarded the newcomers suspiciously. "Can I help you?" asked the officer, scowling as he eyed them up and down.

"I hope so," said Shaun. "We'd like to book passage to Mala. Would you tell us if you take passengers, and if so what you charge them."

"Certainly we take passengers if the price is right," said the first mate. "Do all four of you want to go?"

"All six of us want to go," said Diana, indignant at being ignored.

"We don't carry women," said the first mate. "Women are unlucky at sea. Any sailor will tell you that."

"This is my sister, Diana, a holy cleric of Caroli," said Shaun. "Surely it can't be bad luck to carry a cleric."

"And I am Lirenna Daliris, a wizardess from the hidden kingdom of Haven," said Lirenna. "My people's kin in the south carry as many women as men in their ships, and no more bad luck comes to them than to any other sea faring folk."

"I don't know about fairies," said the sailor, "but it takes weeks to get anywhere by sea, and that's a long time for a hundred healthy, red blooded men to try to ignore the only two woman aboard. Especially..." He eyed Lirenna up and down and licked his lips thoughtfully. Thomas tensed up and took half a step forward.

"...Especially such good looking ones," the first mate continued. "There'll be trouble, you mark my words. That's why ships don't carry women."

"Do ships crews ever suffer injuries?" asked Diana, smiling sweetly. "Do your men ever need healing? Maybe none of your men are worried about incurring the displeasure of a Goddess, or that of a powerful wizardess. Maybe they're men of tremendous courage who fear nothing, who laugh in the face of..."

"All right, all right," said the sailor. "I'll take you to the Captain, it'll be his decision."

He muttered to himself as he led them to the stern of the ship and rapped on the Captain's door. As they waited Thomas gave Diana a grateful smile. She smiled back, then turned her attention back to the way ahead.

A voice called from within the cabin and the first mate entered. A moment later he emerged with another man, who gave them a good looking over, paying special attention to the women. He was a big man, wearing a large black overcoat despite the heat. He had grey hair and a bushy white beard that partially covered a jagged scar running up his cheek. Lirenna thought that one of his eyes was cold and lifeless and suspected that it was glass. The strangest thing about him, however, was that, whereas one of his hands was old and wrinkled, with thick blue veins standing out prominently under the thin, papery skin, just what you'd expect of a man his age, the other one, his right, was much younger. The skin was smooth and clear, without a wrinkle or vein in sight. It was the hand of a twenty year old.

The Captain saw them staring at his hand and laughed merrily, holding it up to show them. "You looking at this?" he asked. "I lost my first hand in a fight with sea snouts three years ago. Had to pay a cleric a small fortune to give me a new one. One of these days, I'm going to get him to give me a new eye as well. If we'd had a cleric aboard at the time, he might have saved both o' my missing parts and a good deal of money as well, so I welcome you aboard, lady, even though you're a woman. A sailor knows the worth of keeping in with the Gods more than most folk. As for you young lady," he said to Lirenna, "I've had many a profitable dealing with your folk, so you're welcome aboard as well.

"My name's Captain Waralee, and this is my first mate, Mister Ward. We charge one silver crown a man a day for passage. If you can pay it, you're welcome to sail with us. You women, though, had best stay below decks as much as possible. Stay out of sight of the men. It'll be bad enough their knowing you're aboard without shoving yourselves in their faces. Be here at four tomorrow morning. We sail with the tide."