It was a lump of rock in the middle of nowhere, bound on one side by the Gulf of Corona and on the other by the ferocious and cold water of the great Mirianic Ocean. A hundred people called this island, Dancard, home, mostly soldiers serving the Coastpoint Guards at Pireth Dancard, the twin-towered fortress rising above the surf.

They were hardy folk here, making their living harvesting the great strands of kelp and fishing. They suffered storms and giant sharks, and had repelled a sizable powrie attack in the demon war. But even when they talked of that heroic battle, the folk of Dancard did so with a stoic attitude, without excitement. Hardy and dour, pragmatic and accepting their lot in life, the folk of Dancard-soldier and civilian alike-depended upon themselves and each other, and were not very trusting of visitors. But neither were they hostile, and they had taken in the Saudi ]acintha for repairs and had helped resupply the ship, though Captain Al'u'met had not even asked for that much.

Brother Dellman was glad to be leaving, though, as the ship glided out of the one harbor along the island's treacherous coast. The Saudi ]acintha had been out of Palmaris for more than a month, and had expected to be in Pireth Vanguard by this time, but bad luck and some broken rigging had forced the ship to limp into an unplanned stop in Dancard.

"A stern group of men and women," remarked Captain Al'u'met, a tall and straight man with the dark skin and woolly hair indicative of his Behrenese heritage. Al'u'met was indeed a rarity in Honce-the-Bear, particularly this far north. While there was a sizeable Behrenese quarter in the dock area of Palmaris, few of the dark-skinned southerners were ever able to find any employment beyond simple manual work, if they were fortunate enough to find any work at all; and no Behrenese, outside the region near Entel, the very southernmost city of Honce-the-Bear, had risen anywhere near as high a level as captain of a sailing ship. There was nothing typical about Al'u'met. He was Abellican, not a follower of the yatols of his homeland, and was among the most impressive men Brother Holan Dellman had ever met, a man who commanded respect upon mere sight.

"They have to be to survive, I suppose," Brother Dellman replied.

"Good folk," Al'u'met added with a nod, then he turned from the taffrail and headed forward, the young monk right behind.

"How long before we see land? " Dellman asked.

"You can see it right now if you look behind us," Al'u'met said with a chuckle, but the humor was lost on poor Dellman and on several of the other crewmen who had heard the remark, for they were all weary of staring out at empty ocean. Captain Al'u'met cleared his throat and explained, "Two weeks if the wind stays steady, but once land is in sight, we'll not have far left to run, for our course is straight to Pireth Vanguard now."

Brother Dellman leaned on the rail and stared ahead. "So be it," he said, reminding himself silently of the solemn duty Abbot Braumin had put upon him. He would be the abbot's principal adviser this fall, when the votes would be cast for the new father abbot. He was to take a measure of Abbot Agronguerre, and his judgment upon the man alone could well determine the course of the Abellican Church.

With that in mind, Brother Holan Dellman offered no complaints-to Al'u'met or to anyone else.

And so it went, day after day, until, just under a week later, the crewman in the crow's nest called out, "A sail! Due north."

Brother Dellman looked up from his deck cleaning. He saw Al'u'met stride by, heading for the prow, and so he followed in the dark man's wake.

"The same one? " he asked, for the Saudi Jacintha had been trailing a ship for a couple of days before she put into Pireth Dancard. It had been barely a speck on the horizon at first, though the swift Saudi ]acintha had closed the distance considerably, enough for the lookout to get a decent view of the small vessel, an older ship with a single mast and a bank of oars. As the SaudiJacintha had neared, those oars had set to work, keeping their distance.

"Not many sail this part of the gulf," Al'u'met answered, "at this season or any other." He looked up at the crow's nest. "What do you make of it?" he called.

"Single square sail," the crewman answered.

"Same as before?"

"Under no flag that I can see," the man confirmed.

Al'u'met looked at Dellman. "I suspect it is the same ship," he said. "Though why an old square-rigged reme would be out so far from the coast, I cannot begin to guess."

Dellman looked up at the Saudi Jacmtha's sails, full of wind, and figured they'd have their answers soon enough.

* * * "Yach, a chaser!" came the cry from the lookout on that square-masted reme.

Dalump Keedump kicked a bucket across the deck and stormed to the taffrail, cursing at every step.

"Yer friend Duke Kalas," another powrie, Dokie Ruggs, grumbled, storming to the rail beside the powrie leader. "Set us out 'ere to die, 'e did!"

"We're not knowin' that!" the powrie leader screamed. "Could be a trader or one bringin' supplies to that castle we passed, and now, mighten be goin' to another up north."

"Yach, but ye're hopin', and not believin' yer own words," Dokie Ruggs answered, and several others nearby nodded in agreement. "It be Kalas, I say. Sent us out here in this leaky tub and sent that one out behind to put us to the bottom, 'e did!"

"She was flyin' a flag o' Palmaris," another remarked.

"Half the stinkin' boats o' the human lands fly the flag o' Palmaris," Dalump argued.

"It be Kalas," insisted Dokie. "She'd o' had us afore, if she hadn't blown her rigging, and now she'll catch us for sure. And us without a way to even fight back!"

Dalump Keedump leaned heavily on the rail to consider his optionsand those seemed very few to the powrie leader at that time. He wasn't certain that Dokie Ruggs and the others had it right, for he trusted Duke Kalas, somewhat. He and his fellows had performed well for the man, and with their help, Kalas had secured his position in Palmaris. But there was simply no reason for Kalas to have gone to the trouble of giving Dalump and his fellows a ship, then chasing them all the way across the Gulf of Corona to sink them. Kalas could have let them all die in the dungeons of Chasewind Manor, without anyone knowing about it.

No, Dalump Keedump wasn't convinced that his frightened kindred were right, but still, whatever this ship might be, it represented danger. What might she do, even if she was just a trader, if she found a barely seaworthy old bucket like this one thick with powries? And powries unable to defend themselves! Every human sailor had reason to hate powries.

Dalump looked over his shoulder at the empty water before his creaking old ship, then looked back to the southern horizon, though the sail of the pursuing ship wasn't visible from the deck yet. The powrie leader knew that he'd have to send his fellows to the oars again, and soon, bending their backs to compensate for the meager power the little square sail was providing.

That notion gave Dalump some hope, though, for none in all the world could row as strong and as long as a powrie, and he had a crew whose lives depended upon it.

* * * The Saudi Jacintha closed very slowly over the next few days, close enough to see that the other boat's oars were hard at work. On the morning of the fifth day, the lookout informed Al'u'met that the reme had turned more to the east, and the captain, curious as to why this boat was so intent on staying ahead of his ship, which flew no war flags, ordered his crew to follow. Soon after, the square-masted reme turned back to the north.

"They are trying to avoid us, obviously," Al'u'met informed Brother Dellman.

"And to no harm," the monk replied, trying to stay focused on his critical mission here, though he, too, was more than a little curious about the strange reme.

Al'u'met considered the man's reply for a few moments, then nodded. "If she turns again, we'll not pursue," he said, "though I am not fond of allowing such a ship to sail the gulf without some explanation."

"My dear Captain Al'u'met, you are not in service to Duke Bretherfbrd," Dellman said lightly, referring to the King's man who commanded the Honce-the-Bear naval forces.

"But I am in service to all other traders who sail the region," Al'u'met replied, "as are they to me and my crew. It is a brotherhood out here, my friend, one that we all need to survive against the unspeakable power of the Mirianic. But my debt to you and your brethren is no less-well do I remember the services your allies performed for my people on the docks of Palmaris, when all the rest of the world seemed against us. I will deliver you, as promised, and as soon as I may. Perhaps I will find our reme friend on my return from Vanguard."

Brother Dellman bowed and went back to his voluntary duties on deck. Every so often, he glanced northward, shielding his eyes from the glare off the water, and once or twice he thought he saw the distant sail.

They lost sight of the ship the next morning, when a thick fog came up. The wind was light, and it took the fog a long time to dissipate. When at last it was clear again, the reme, as much oar-powered as wind-driven, had moved out of sight.

Captain Al'u'met, Brother Dellman, and all the rest of the crew tried to put it out of mind, as well.

And so the days slipped past, and the wind came up strong again, and sure enough, the square sail appeared at the edge of the horizon once more.

But the weather was worsening, and they found that night full of rain and the next morning full of fog yet again, and when it at last cleared, the next evening after that, the captain and crew were greeted not by a distant sail, but by a distant light, high above the water.

"Pireth Vanguard," Al'u'met informed Dellman and all the others.

The next morning, the Saudi ]acintha floated beside the long wharf of the northernmost Honce-the-Bear fortress. + + + + + + + + + + + Another ship put in that morning as well, but into a sheltered bay some five miles north. The powries had pushed the old reme to her limits, and now she was badly in need of some repairs to oars and to mainmast. The bedraggled powries, rowing hard for a week and a half, needed the respite, as well, and more important, to Dalump Keedump's thinking, needed some real weapons, something they could throw from a distance at the pursuing ship or any others they might find on the open Mirianic. Also, the Weathered Isles, the powries' home and goal, were a long way away, and a few supplies would surely raise the morale of Dalump's overworked and underfed crew.

Perhaps that pursuing ship would discover them here and come in for the kill. Dalump and his tough powries didn't fear humans, not even the Allheart knights, and while they had no heart for fighting them out on the open water-not in this rickety and defenseless ship, at least-they'd be more than happy to do battle on land.

But for that, too, they'd need weapons, something Duke Kalas had flatly refused to provide-not even a spear for sticking fish. So now half the weary crew went to work with renewed vigor, cutting branches and fashioning crude bows and spears and clubs, while others worked to ready the ship, and still others went out to scout the region.

Dalump didn't say it, but he and all the others were also hoping their scouts might happen upon a cluster of houses, scantily guarded, where the crew might find some fun at the expense of a few wretched humans.

The docks were quiet that morning; with the inclement weather and a few days of fine catches before it, the Vanguard fishing fleet had not ventured out in force.

The Saudi Jacintha had been guided in by a pair of soldiers, wearing the red uniforms of the famed Coastpoint Guards. The two started somewhat, seeing a Behrenese man piloting the craft, but their trepidation was tempered a bit when they noted an Abellican monk standing beside the captain, chatting easily.

As soon as the Saudi]acintha was secured to the wharf and its gangplank lowered, the captain and Brother Dellman made ready to disembark. "Permission to go ashore? " Al'u'met asked.

"Granted, for yerself and the brother," one of the soldiers answered. "Warder Presso will want to speak with ye before giving a general invitation."

"Fair enough," said Al'u'met, and he and Dellman moved off the ship and followed the pair up a long stairway carved out of the stone cliff, into Pireth Vanguard and to the office of Warder Constantine Presso.

"Al'u'met," the warder said as soon as the pair entered. He rose and came around his desk, obviously familiar with the Behrenese captain. "How long has it been, my old friend? " "Back in the days when you served at Pireth Tuime," Al'u'met replied, "long before the war."

They shook hands warmly, and Al'u'met introduced his old friend to Brother Dellman.

"I have brought him for a meeting with Abbot Agronguerre," Al'u'met explained. "Many tidings from the south, some wondrous, some painful."

"We have heard rumors, but nothing substantial," Presso replied. "Know that, at last, and through the tireless work of our Prince Midalis, the goblin scum have been cleansed from our land."

Al'u'met nodded. "We will tell our tale in full to Abbot Agronguerre," he said. "I believe that Warder Presso would also be welcomed at that meeting, if he was so inclined." He looked to Brother Dellman as he spoke, deferring to the man but making it quite clear that he trusted Presso implicitly.

"If he is a friend of Al'u'met, then welcome he is," the monk said with a respectful bow.

"To St. Belfour, then," Warder Presso said, and he led the way out of the office, giving orders to his men to make Al'u'met's crew most welcome, and to get a detail inspecting the ship.

The trio rode comfortably in the warder's carriage through the woodlands to the small clearing and the stone structure of St. Belfour. Abbot Agronguerre was quite busy this day, but he and Brother Haney made time for them.

"The College of Abbots will convene in Calember," Brother Dellman explained as soon as the formal introductions were ended. "We will take you there in the Saudi ]acintha, if you please."

"Three months?" Agronguerre asked, looking mostly to Al'u'met. "That is a long time in a fine season for a trader to be tied up, is it not? "

"I am indebted to your-to my-Church, Abbot Agronguerre," Al'u'met explained, "and mostly to those who bade me to bring Brother Dellman here and to deliver both of you to St.-Mere-Abelle. It is a service I, and my crew, willingly offer."

"Most generous," said Abbot Agronguerre. "But perhaps the second part will prove unnecessary. If I am to go to the College, as surely I am, then I will need transport back soon after, and better if it is a Vanguard ship, that it can dock the winter through at Pireth Vanguard."

Al'u'met looked to Dellman, but the young brother wasn't prepared to answer that logic at that time.

"We will discuss it at length," Al'u'met said, "but no need for haste. Let us tell you of the events in Palmaris and in the southern part of the kingdom, momentous events indeed."

"Father Abbot Markwart is dead," Agronguerre remarked, "so said one trader who came through. Killed by a man named Nightbird and the woman Pony." "Jilseponie," Brother Dellman corrected. "Elbryan Wyndon, known as Nightbird, and his wife, Jilseponie, who is often called Pony."

"And they are outlaws?" asked the abbot.

"Nightbird was killed in the battle," Dellman explained. "And far from an outlaw, Jilseponie is now hailed as the hero of the kingdom."

Abbot Agronguerre wore a perplexed expression indeed!

Brother Dellman took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. He had to go back to the beginning, he realized, to bring this man through the last tumultuous year in the southern reaches of Honce-the-Bear, and the western stretch, all the way through the Timberlands and up to the Barbacan and the miracle at Mount Aida.

The three Vanguardsmen listened intently, leaning forward so far in their seats that they seemed as if they would topple onto the floor. Brother Haney repeatedly brought his right hand up before his face, making the gesture of the blessing of the evergreen, particularly when Dellman told of the events at Mount Aida, at Avelyn's grave, when the blessed arm of the martyred brother shot forth waves of energy to utterly destroy the horde of goblins that had trapped Dellman and his companions on that forlorn plateau.

And Agronguerre, too, made the sign of the evergreen when Brother Dellman told of the final battle at Chasewind Manor, of the fall of Markwart-from grace and from life.

When he ended, the three Vanguardsmen sat there silently for a long, long time. Brother Haney looked to his abbot repeatedly, deferring to Agronguerre's wisdom before he voiced his own thoughts.

"Where is this woman Jilseponie now?" the abbot asked.

"She went home-to the Timberlands and a town called Dundalis," Al'u'met explained. "There lies her husband."

"An impressive woman," Agronguerre remarked.

"You cannot begin to understand the depth of her heroism," Al'u'met was pleased to reply. "In the time of Bishop De'Unnero and the last days of Father Abbot Markwart, my people were being persecuted brutally in Palmaris, and Jilseponie stood strong beside us, risking all for folk she did not even know. There is a goodness there, and a strength."

"None is stronger in the use of the sacred gemstones," Brother Dellman remarked, and both Agronguerre and Haney gasped and made the evergreen sign.

"Both the Church and King Danube himself recognized it within her," Al'u'met went on. "She was offered both the barony of Palmaris and a high position within your Church, as abbess of St. Precious, or even ..." He paused and looked to Dellman.

"There was talk of nominating her as mother abbess of the Abellican Church," Dellman admitted. "Proposed by Master Francis Dellacourt-"

"Markwart's lackey," Agronguerre interrupted. "Well I know Brother Francis from the last College of Abbots. I found him most disagreeable, to be honest."

"Master Francis has seen the error of his ways," Brother Dellman assured him. "He saw it on the face of his dying Father Abbot, and heard it in the last words, of repentance, that Markwart spoke to him."

"It has been an interesting year," Abbot Agronguerre said with a profound sigh.

"I should like to meet thisJilseponie," Warder Presso remarked.

"She once served in your Coastpoint Guard," Brother Dellman told him, and the Warder nodded appreciatively. "Indeed, she was at Pireth Tuime when the powries invaded, perhaps the only survivor of that massacre."

That widened Presso's eyes, and he stared hard at Dellman. "Describe her," he demanded.

"Beauty incarnate," ATu'met said with a chuckle.

Dellman was more specific, holding up his hand to indicate that Pony was about five foot five. "Her eyes are blue and her hair golden," he said.

"It could not be," Warder Presso remarked.

"You know her? " Al'u'met asked him.

"There was a woman at Pireth Tuime who went by the name ofJill," Presso explained. "She had been indentured into the King's armysomething about a failed marriage with a nobleman-and had worked her way into the Coastpoint Guard. But that was years ago."

"A failed marriage to Connor Bildeborough, nephew of Baron Bildeborough of Palmaris," Brother Dellman explained, smiling, for he knew that they were indeed speaking of the same remarkable woman. "A marriage that could only fail, since Jilseponie's heart was ever for Elbryan."

"Amazing," Warder Presso breathed.

"You do know her, then," said Agronguerre.

Presso nodded. "And even then, she was impressive, good Abbot. A woman of high moral character and strength of heart and of arm."

"That would be her," said a smiling Al'u'met.

"We can decide on your passage at a later date," Brother Dellman said to Abbot Agronguerre. "In the meantime, I have been instructed to spend the summer in Vanguard, and truly, I do wish to see this wondrous land."

"And you are most welcome, Brother Dellman," said the congenial Agronguerre. "There is much room here at St. Belfour, and with so many brothers off in the north with Prince Midalis, an extra set of hands would greatly help."

"And Captain Al'u'met and his crew will stay with me at Pireth Vanguard," said Warder Presso. "I, too, find myself shorthanded, with many soldiers on the road with my Prince."

"And when do you expect their return?" Al'u'met asked.

"We have heard rumors that it will be soon," Presso replied. "They ventured to southern Alpinador with the barbarian leader Bruinhelde and the ranger Andacanavar, repaying the northmen for their aid in our struggles."

"An alliance with Alpinador? " Captain ATu'met asked skeptically.

Warder Presso shrugged. "That is a story for another day, I suspect," he answered when there came a soft knock on Abbot Agronguerre's door.

"Vespers," the abbot explained, rising. "Perhaps you would lead us in our prayers this evening, Brother Dellman."

Dellman rose from his chair and bowed respectfully. He stared at Agronguerre, continuing to take the measure of the man. If first impressions meant anything at all, though, Dellman suspected that he would indeed be recommending that Braumin Herde and the others nominate this man for the position of father abbot.