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stallion’s blood she had brought with her than the efficacy of her disguise. Even so, she thought, fingering the unfamiliar fuzz on her chin, the honey had done a remarkable job of keeping in place the snippets of fox-fur she had stolen from the edge of one of her mother’s best capes, even if the hound, Ferg, had tried to lick it off. One good gale was likely to whip it away; but the weather looked set fair to see her safely beyond the point of no return. She stretched her arm up to reach for another of the lines off the yard and was assailed by a rich, rank stench.
    Whoo! She wrinkled her nose in distaste. Wearing Fent’s clothing for the duration of the voyage was going to be punishment in itself. A picture of her twin, securely gagged and bound to the central pillar of the main barn, eyes sparking blue murder as she and Halli bade him farewell at the door, flickered briefly and satisfyingly through her mind.
    Then Katla turned her face to the ocean and grinned with the utmost glee.

Two
    Tanto
    ‘Take this vile stuff away! Are you trying to poison me now, not content with having rendered me a gross and stinking cripple?’
    Saro watched the silver plate spin through the air and hit the wall on the other side of the bedchamber, emptying its contents down the pale terracotta like vomit. It was curious, he thought, that his brother could have the strength required to hurl a plate so hard that it left a dent in the plaster, but be apparently too weak to feed himself.
    It had been three months since Tanto Vingo had regained consciousness after succumbing to the trauma of the wounds he had received at the Allfair, and the equally dangerous ministrations of the doctors which had followed. Their parents, Favio and Illustria, had been tearful with relief and gratitude at the return of their favourite son – albeit in his new form; but on hearing that familiar voice rend the air of the darkened room on the night when the merchants had passed through, with their rancorous gossip and the fateful moodstones which had played their part in resurrecting the patient, Saro’s heart had contracted in misery.
    He had much preferred his brother when he lay like a dead thing, suppurating silently.
    ‘Clean it up, you toad! Lick it off the wall, like the revolting spew it is – it’s all you’re fit for, anyway.’ Fat tears welled in Tanto’s eyes and burst out onto his pale, fleshy cheeks. He balled his chubby fists and started to batter the counterpane with them. Then he began to roar in the way he did when there was no one else but Saro to hear him. ‘Why
me
? Why has the Goddess visited this mischance on me – why not you? You’re such a shit-filled, cowardly little worm – what good are
you
in the world? No one loves
you
, no one expected anything of
you
: to have seen you reduced to this would have been no loss. But
me
—’
    The wailing grew to tidal proportions until Tanto’s face went a putrid purple and he was forced to stop to gasp for breath.
    Saro studiously ignored this outburst, as he had learned to do (nothing infuriated Tanto more) and applied himself to scraping the remains of the roasted chicken, peppers, onions and zucchini off the wall. They had been pureed, like infant food, since Tanto refused even to make the effort to chew; but they had been prepared by their mother’s own hand, mixed with the most expensive herbs and spices and slow-cooked for hours to bring out the delicate flavourings. To see such love and effort treated with such childish scorn was painful to Saro. Though it was hardly surprising that Tanto was in such a permanent foul temper: he was somewhat changed from the young man who had set out from Altea bound for the Allfair those short months ago. Then he had been handsome, athletic and adored – the favourite son, of whom great things were expected. A fine marriage was talked of, an alliance which would bring status, land, influence and, it was hoped, not a little wealth. Through