"You are dismissed," Rakossa told the rest. "Those who are to chase, prepare yourselves."

"We will have her back," he murmured, alone now in the ornate chamber. "And we will have that ship, that magnificent ice ship for our own, though this strange Landgrave RoVijar wishes it for himself."

As for the outworld devils, perhaps when they were recaptured he would listen a little more to their words and a little less to those of the Landgrave of Arsudun. He was older, this RoVijar, more experienced, his words as devious as his true aims. His purposes clashed somehow with his speech.

Blood and bone awash in a sea of shrieks inundated his thoughts, and he thought again only of the consort Teeliam Hoh, as the thick blood bubbled from her laughter.

Wind howled mournfully across the deck of the _Slanderscree_. Ethan blinked behind his face mask as he emerged on deck, shutting the cabin door tightly behind him. Elfa, Hunnar, and September stood con-versing near the mizzenmast. As he drew nearer he saw Teeliam among them, hidden partly by Septem-ber's bulk.

"Warmth and wind this morning to you, friend Ethan," Hunnar called happily. "We debate on what to do next."

"We still can't return to Arsudun." September spoke through the diaphragm of his own mask.

"Our first try at establishing a confederation certainly didn't work out very well." Ethan sounded depressed.

"What confederation speak you of, friend Ethan?" asked Teeliam. He explained their idea to her.

"That gives meaning to the lies of the false Land-grave RoVijar," said the former royal consort of Poyolavomaar. "The only Tran he seeks to protect is himself."

"We could return to Wannome," Hunnar sug-gested. Everyone looked to him with varying expres-sions of dismay or shock and he hastened to protest. "Not I, 'tis not I who wishes to do so. But I felt it but fair to certain of the crew to relay their desires.

"For myself, I admit I was skeptical at first, my friends. Now, the more we travel across my world and the more I see how such as RoVijar and Rakossa con-spire for their own benefit, pitting Tran against Tran, state against state, the more convinced am I of the rightness of this plan. This union you have outlined is a worthy end to be fought for of itself, no matter what distribution of trade and benefits it also produces with your government, friend Ethan."

September commented approvingly. "Nothin' like some outright treachery and double-dealing by politicians to convince the citizenry they need a new form of government."

"There are still many good men and women of the crew who feel differently." Hunnar gestured at the ship around them, the populated rigging above. "They became homesick long since and talk more of mates and cubs and mistresses than confederations and poli-tics. Adventure is growing wearisome to them, nor has our failure at Poyolavamaar inspired aught but de-spair. They wish for familiar faces and home hearths."

"They're not alone," Ethan said, feeling a tug toward a hearth more distant than the knight could imagine. "Are you suggesting the possibility of mutiny?"

Hunnar executed a violent Tran gesture indicating absolute negativity. "Tahoding is too observant and too good a captain for that. Never would he permit dis-sension to advance that far. Where other captains might put disgruntled crew members in chains, he can disarm them with a laugh or a sailor's jest.

"I wish merely to say that for this journey to show profit, we will have to have some success capable of raising the spirits of our less farsighted shipmates."

Ethan studied the parallel grooves the runners cut in the ice behind them. "We can outdistance any pursuit from Poyolavomaar. The question is, where do we go now?"

"Your pardon." All eyes turned to Teeliam. "I care not whither you go so long as it is not back to Poyo. But I have listened well to your talk and believe you have the best interests of all in mind. As you have failed at Poyolavomaar through the wiles of its ruler and not its people, so should you try another state at least as wealthy and powerful, if not as aggressive." She nodded forward.

"I am no sailor, but I know directions and locations." She made a spitting sound as she spoke. "This is necessary when escape to elsewhere becomes one's obsession. Less than two hundred satch to the (Tran equivalent for south-southwest) lies fabled Moulokin."

"Two hundred satch-a fair journey to seek a myth." Hunnar laughed and even Elfa looked dubiously at her savior. "There is no such state as Moulokin."

"You've heard of this place?" Ethan eyed the knight in amazement. "You never heard of Arsudun, yet this place which sounds still farther from Sofold is familiar to you?"

"Moulokin is a mystic name on Tran-ky-ky, friend Ethan." The knight was still grinning. "Many of the finest ice ships were supposedly built there, in its ship-yards. Yet not I nor any I know of have conversed with has ever seen Moulokin, nor even a Moulokinese."

"If they're only a myth, what about the ships?"

"Friend Ethan," Hunnar said as one to a cub, "all owners are proud of their vessels. The finer the vessel, the greater the pride. To claim Moulokinese origin for a raft is to claim a credit few dare to match.

'Moulokin' may be naught but an honorary t.i.tle given the best ships built in many shipyards and bestowed at their launching."

"Moulokin _is_ real." Teeliam refused to be dissuaded.

"You have been there?" asked Hunnar.

"No," she said, suddenly subdued.

"Do you know anyone who has been there?"

"Not of myself. I do know of some who say they have traded with some who have been there."

Hunnar made a disgusted sound. "Its direction is known," she said defiantly. "Moulokin must be more powerful even than Poyolavomaar, for it is said never to have been sacked by a horde."

"Absurdities, friend Ethan," Hunnar added gently. "The richer a city, the more attention it would draw from the ice nomads. They would band together tem-porarily until no city could stand against them. Not Poyolavomaar, not Arsudun before your people granted it protection, not Wannome my own. They could not withstand greater and greater attacks forever. The more attacks a state withstands, the wealthier it grows, and the wealthier it becomes, the larger and more frequent the attacks it invites.

" 'Tis kind of you to try and help us, Teeliam, but Moulokin can not lend us the help it does not have."

"What do you propose we do instead?" Elfa asked, challenging him.

Hunnar seemed a bit taken aback by the vehemence of her query. "There should be other states we can try, elsewhere."

"In lieu of the most powerful?" She turned that uncomfortable feline stare on Ethan. He turned to Teeliam.

"How sure are you of this Moulokin?"

"Myths do not have directions." She raised a furry arm, pointed just south of the bow. "There lies Moulokin, if it lies anywhere. Does it not behoove us to try for it?"

September watched a distant gutorrbyn glide by, eying them hungrily. "We can do both. If Moulokin exists, we'll find her. If she doesn't, we might as well search south for our next potential ally as any other direction."

"I agree," said Ethan. He looked back at Teeliam. "One more question, though. Two hundred satch is a long way from Poyolavomaar. Long, but not impos-sible. If Moulokin is so worth visiting, why hasn't anyone from your city gone there?"

"It is a dangerous journey." She paused, then added more quietly. "I would not hide that from you."

"All journeys across the ice are dangerous," Hunnar cut in emphatically. "How so is it known dangerous to Moulokin?"

"It is told that devils work between Poyolavomaar and Moulokin."

"You've seen devils before." Ethan patted the beamer clipped to his waist. "You've seen what our beamers can do. We can kill any devils."

"Perhaps, but you cannot kill the sea."

"What?" He frowned.

"These are _sujoc_ devils who are invisible. They too live mostly in h.e.l.l. But between here and Moulokin they cavort close to the surface. Where they do, they bend the ocean." She looked frightened now, for all her hardsh.e.l.led bravado.

"That's not possible," said Hunnar.

"That is what is rumored."

Elfa looked accusingly at Hunnar. "If Moulokin be real and not a myth, why should not a bent ocean be equally real?"

Deductive logic was not Sir Hunnar's strong point. "I do not know," he replied angrily, "but the ocean cannot bend."

"We'll find out, because I guess that's the way we'll keep going," said Ethan.

"As always, Sir Ethan, you choose boldness over caution." She all but purred at him. Hunnar growled noticeably and stalked away sternward.

The good knight took it personally every time Elfa supported one of Ethan's decisions over one of his own. But perhaps this time the redbearded warrior was right.

Ethan found himself puzzling over Teeliam's words as he relayed the course to Tahoding, found himself repeating her comments over and over again in his mind as he hunted for a flaw in his translation.

Of course there was no such thing as a bent ocean, anymore than there were devils who caused it.

But he had seen a "devil" and fought it.

Suppose this other myth also had basis in fact?

Hunnar lay in the sun out on the new bowsprit, tracing lines in the wood with one claw while con-templating the ice shushing past below. Days had pa.s.sed since they'd swung around to follow the girl Teeliam's imaginary course toward its imaginary destination. The sun was not yet much above the horizon. Early morning cold chilled even a Tran.

Light turned gray, solemn ice to a more cheerful white as the sun rose. His attention lay on the sun's as-cension only vaguely. Nor was he thinking of the strange mission to which his offworld friends had converted him.

Instead, his thoughts were for the daughter of the Right Torsk KurdaghVlata, Landgrave and True Pro-tector of Wannome and Sofold. On the way the wind rippled her fur, so thick and smooth. On the n.o.ble gray down of her brow, which crested above eyes capable of more expression and emotion than most women's lips.

Inside himself he knew well that the friend Ethan meant no harm toward his desires and surely harbored no intention toward the lady. Certainly Ethan had voiced such of himself, many times. Yet it seemed that the two of them were thrown into argument often and that the tiny but incredibly heavy ( _solid_ bones, the wizard EerMeesach had said, not hollow like the Tran) human won all of them when Hunnar wished most to impress his lady. And Elfa would end up congratulating and cooing approval of the hairless dwarf instead of himself.

More than all the glory of battle, riches of trade, or the accolades of the Tran he led, he craved a few words of praise from her.

The grooves in the wood grew deeper with his thoughts. What was she trying to do by favoring the alien over him? Perhaps Ethan's disclaimers were spoken honestly, but could Elfa have some unnatural attraction to a male of another race? To a being who expressed his hatred of fighting whenever given the chance, who without his artificial chivskates would fall flat on the ice like a newborn cub?

He growled under his breath. No matter how he approached the situation, no matter the angle or fore-thought, he could not see the childishly simple explanation.

Double eyelids flicking, he found himself staring curiously at the horizon. An unusual ridging serrated the far-distant surface. They must be nearing another island. He performed some slow calculation in his head. It could not be Moulokin, if Teeliam's estimate of two hundred satch were correct. They were still too far away by a third. Yet whatever was there grew larger as he stared. Another island, and the morning light glowed most oddly bright on its slopes.

Elfa faded from his mind, far enough anyway for him to concentrate ahead. It was as if the rocks and soil of the growing isle were polished like a mirror. Sunlight shattered crazily from it as from jewels in the Landgrave's formal scepter. In this equatorial region snow was usually absent from surface lands. It had been so in Poyolavomaar, but did not seem to be that way here.

There was no sign of an end to the island as the icerigger raced nearer. Indeed, the ocean appeared to blend without a break into the island itself. A few minutes later his eyes widened in sudden realization of what was about to happen. With no land expected, the lookouts had grown lax. But now the one in the foremast basket saw the approaching ma.s.s and roared a warning to the ship.

"Come down speed? collision course!"

Hunnar was already chivaning back the portside icepath toward the helmdeck, yelling instructions as he went. The rigging began to quiver like a spider's web as sailors swarmed aloft.

One sailor lay asleep across the path. Hunnar bent, kicked, and soared over the p.r.o.ne figure to land on the icepath beyond.

Tahoding was not yet awake and on deck, but a second mate named Fa.s.sbire was. He relayed in-structions of his own as he coordinated with Hunnar's information. Sails were trimmed and spars angled. The _Slanderscree_ commenced to slow. A worried glance forward showed Hunnar that it was fast enough. Ice anchors would not be needed.

Dream-dull eyes showed as the morning crew stumbled out onto the deck. Cries of consternation came from those emerging from the fore cabin as they saw what was bearing down on them.

Ethan appeared on deck, followed closely by Sep-tember. So acclimated to Tran-ky-ky had the humans become that their hoods were off and face masks down, exposing them to the chilly morning air, twenty-five below with a sixty kph tailwind. They soon had hoods and masks up, however, the danger of frostbite being too real to tempt.

Hunnar noted that Ethan was panting as he sealed his face mask, and had to remind himself for yet another time that the humans panted because they were short of wind, not to cool their bodies.

Spying Hunnar in the captain's position, he ran to-ward the helmdeck. "What is it, Hunnar?"

The knight, all thoughts of ludicrous romantic com-pet.i.tion now forgotten, pointed forward, then to star-board and port where the phenomenon extended.

"Teeliam's myth is correct thus far, friend Ethan. 'Twas fortunate I was awake and- alert, for the lookout was sleeping or looking elsewhere, I think."

Ethan ran to the railing, sliding across the icepath, to study the remarkable barrier ahead and the quilted reflections it shot at his eyes from wrenched and tor-tured ice. "The bent ocean," he murmured in amaze-ment. He repeated it to Hunnar after mounting the helmdeck.

"You find it pleasing, friend Ethan? Would it not unsettle you to see the ocean of your own world bent and twisted so abnormally?"

"A liquid ocean can't be bent, Hunnar. Not in this fashion, anyway. I don't know what it's called, but I've seen fax- pictures of it on other worlds. Maybe some were taken on my own. I don't know. It's ice, exactly like the ice we've traveled so many satch across." They continued to slow as they came close to the ridge of jagged ice blocks and spears, frozen girders and sparkling white boulders.

"But the ocean is _bent_," Hunnar insisted, with the tone of someone describing a round globe as flat.

"Not exactly bent," explained Milliken Williams from the other side of the helmdeck, "as much as com-pressed. This is a pressure ridge. Ages ago, this must have been one of the last areas of open water on Tran-ky-ky. Last minute freezing by two bodies of ice mov-ing toward each other created this wall of broken floes. Clap your paws or hands together in a bowl of water and it will shoot up between them.

That's what has happened to the ocean here, Hunnar. It was created by hydrophysics and not by devils or daemons."

"Did I say it was created by devils?" Hunnar spoke with great dignity. "Do you take me for a superst.i.tious fool of a common sailor?"

"I'm sorry. I meant no insult," the teacher replied plaintively. Hunnar accepted the apology gruffly, then quickly changed the subject.

"The concern should not be what name to give it, but how to pa.s.s through."

Ethan studied the eerily regular ridge. "It can't be more than twenty meters high. Surely we can get across somewhere."

Scouting parties were sent out east and west, to lo-cate a break in the ice the _Slanderscree_ could navigate. Reluctant knots of sailors left the ship to explore the ridge itself, but only after being presented with antidevil amulets rapidly sculpted by EerMeesach.

The icerigger lay facing the ridge, sails furled, awaiting their return. When the first explorers came chivaning back, Ethan and the others awaited their reports anxiously. They were not encouraging.

According to the scouts the ridge ran in an un-broken line almost due east and west. It extended as far as a Tran could see to the distant horizons. In some places the monstrous chunks of ancient ice rose con-siderably higher than the twenty meters they presently faced.

Having met no devils, the ridge climbers returned equally unharmed and equally discouraged. While the ridge was barely a hundred meters wide, it was as solid as the ship's runners.

"We can't go around it, and we can't go over." Ethan was standing on the crest of the ridge, staring at the inviting expanse of open ice ocean on the far side. "We certainly can't go through. The _Slanderscree's_ no thermprow."

"What's a thermprow?" Hunnar asked, his chiv digging deeply into the ice, holding him steady against the wind.

"In the arctic regions of other worlds they have ships with powerful heat elements built into their bows and sides to melt the ice. I've seen pictures on the tridee." He glanced back at the icerigger. Sailors were moving listlessly about on deck and aloft, trying to keep busy to stave off discouragement. "If we had suf-ficient recharge capacity we could melt our way through with our beamers."

"Come now, young feller-me-lad." September indi-cated the ma.s.sive ice blocks surrounding them. "It would take us a hundred years using these bitty little beamers to melt a _Slanderscree_ -size traverse through this ridge. What we need is a proper shipyard torch." He gazed westward, ice particles buffeting his mask. "All to move a few blocks of ice."

"Blocks." Ethan stamped a foot. "How much would you say this one we're standing on weighs? Ten tons? twenty?"

September eyed his young companion, then looked back at the anch.o.r.ed _Slanderscree_. "Might be possible at that. If the wind holds steady."

"Have you learned naught of my world?" Hunnar spoke critically, but gently. "The wind is always steady, day and night, year and shayear. If the wind dies, Tran-ky-ky turns upside down."