[piosenniel]

Rôg took the quickest way across the icy waters, outpacing the boats as he winged his way back to The Sea-Spirit. With a screech he dove toward the ship’s railing, extending his talons toward it to secure a sure perch. What a horror this venture had turned into! he thought, jumping from the railing to the deck.

‘Luindal!’ he shouted, running down the stairs toward the Captain’s room. A number of those still on board peeked out from their rooms and from the galley, hastening behind him as he neared Luindal’s study.

‘What’s happened?’ they asked crowding about him as he knocked on the Captain’s door. ‘Where are the others?’

‘The Corsairs were waiting for us. They’ve captured Andtuariel; taken Hilde. Many are dead . . . many . . .’

The door opened. Luindal stood there, his face unreadable. ‘Who is dead?’ he asked in a quiet voice.

‘Carandû, for one . . . and possibly Andtuariel, by now . . .’ began Rôg as he entered the room. He took a seat on one of the nearby chairs; the events of the day had settled in on him at last and his knees were shaking. Those who could crowded about in the hallway near the opened door as he recounted the unfortunate unfolding of what had seemed a straightforward and simple mission at the first.