sleeping wife of a friend and covered his stolen eyes with a hand covered in the flayed skin of elves.
All across Ulthuan, the dreams of wizards and the sensitive were troubled, and visions entered their mind that carried the promise and the threat of the power of Slaanesh’s greatest follower.
Teclis hauled his painful way up onto the deck, one shoulder rising, the other falling with every step. It was dark. The night sky was full of stars and the beams of the moon fell on his face. The sound of the waves lapping against the sides of the ship was oddly relaxing. The wind was cool on his skin. At night, he felt stronger, and he suffered the seasickness less. He felt more able to limp around and less self-conscious about his infirmity with most of the crew save for the nightwatch and the officer in charge asleep.
His dreams had been dark, troubled things, full of images of walls closing in and four-armed daemons stalking innocent elves and flaying them alive while they screamed in what might have been agony or ecstasy or some combination of both. In any case, the image was disturbing enough to make him want to leave the little cabin and come up into the fresh air.
There was a splash and a plopping sound and he saw something silver wriggling on the deck in front of him. At first, he was startled and a little scared but he saw it was a flying fish. It had leapt from the water and was now spasming on the deck as if drowning in air. He felt a stab of sympathy. He knew what that felt like. He lifted the fish, ignoring the slimy wriggling between his fingers, limped to the edge of the deck and dropped it back over the side into the ocean.
He looked out onto the black waters and saw the moon reflected in them. He saw his own reflection as a shadowy, broken outline in the rippling waves. It made him look even more ill-made than usual.
He heard someone moving behind him and turned to see the girl who was always following Tyrion about. He smiled at her. She looked at him oddly for a moment, and he thought she was going to speak but she walked away, unwilling to meet his gaze, receding into the night.
He turned away himself so as not to show his hurt. He schooled his features to cold composure and told himself he did not care anyway. It was a hard thing to be ugly and a cripple among the elves. They did not like to look upon things less beautiful and less perfect than themselves. In his father’s villa, with only his family and Thornberry, he had been shielded from that, but he was starting to realise how isolated his life was going to be among what were supposedly his own people. He wondered for a moment whether that was why his father had retreated there.
Tyrion was going to have it easier now. He was good-looking even among elves and he was good-natured, easy going and charming. His sunny disposition would always win him friends and admirers.
What is going to become of us, he asked the Moon Goddess. What is going to become of me? There was no answer. The waves rolled on. The sea was empty, a vast dark mirror to the sky.
It was a long time before he slept and, once again, his dreams were dark.
chapter eight
The wind grew stronger, ruffling Tyrion’s hair with invisible fingers and making the sails crack as they fluttered. The sea was choppier, white caps of foam appearing atop waves that grew larger and larger. The ship rose and fell more as it cut into them. From the east, purple clouds streamed across the sky, covering the sun and overhauling the ship with surprising swiftness.
Tyrion watched with interest. The sailors reacted with practised discipline, tying things down, making sure everything was in place. In the hold, one of the horses whinnied in fear, catching something in the air. The rest of the steeds became uneasy. Tyrion could hear them moving restlessly. One by one the soldiers went down into the hold and began to whisper softly to their animals, calming them.
Slowly it dawned on Tyrion that there really might be something to be uneasy about. The wind was blowing ever more strongly. The gulls perched on the masts were taking to the air. The Eagle of Lothern turned slightly, setting a new