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He glanced quickly at Ahren Elessedil. The Druid was standing rigid and white-faced against the onslaught, hands weaving, lips moving, calling on his magic to save them. It was a terrible choice he was making, Pen knew. Using magic would give them away to the Galaphile in an instant. It would lead Terek Molt and his Gnome Hunters right to them. But what other choice did they have? The boy dropped to his knees, fighting to keep from screaming, the wailing so frenzied and wild that the deck planking was vibrating.

Then abruptly, everything went perfectly still, and they were enfolded in a silence so deep and vast that it felt as if they were packed in cotton wadding and buried in the ground. Around them, the mist continued to swirl and the shades to fly, but the wailing was no longer heard.

Pen got to his feet hesitantly, watching as the others did the same.

“We’re safe, but we’ve given ourselves away,” Ahren said quietly. He looked drained of strength, his face drawn and worn.

“Maybe they didn’t come after us,” Khyber offered.

Her uncle did not respond. Instead, he moved away from them, crossing the deck to the pilot box. After a moment’s hesitation, Pen and Khyber followed. Gar Hatch turned at their approach, his hard face twisting with anger. “This is your doing, Druid!” he snapped. “Get below and stay there!”

“Cinnaminson,” Ahren Elessedil said to the girl, ignoring her father. She swung toward the sound of his voice, her pale face damp with mist, her blind eyes wide. “We have to hide. Can you find a place for us to do so?”

“Don’t answer him!” Gar Hatch roared. He swung down out of the pilot box and advanced on the Druid. “Let her be! She’s blind, in case you hadn’t noticed! How do you expect her to help?”

Ahren stopped, one hand coming up in a warding gesture. “Don’t come any closer, Captain,” he said. Gar Hatch stopped, shaking with rage. “Let’s not pretend we don’t both know what she can and can’t do. She’s your eyes in this muck. She can see better than either of us. If she can’t, then send her below and steer this ship yourself! Because a Druid warship tracks us, and if you don’t find a way off this lake, and find it quickly, it will be on top of us!”

Gar Hatch came forward another step, his fists knotted. “I should never have brought you aboard! I should never have agreed to help you! I do, and look what it costs me! You take my daughter, you take my ship, and you will probably cost me my life!”

Ahren stood his ground. “Don’t be stupid. I take nothing from you but your services, and I paid for those. Among them, like it or not, is your daughter’s talent. Now give her your permission to find a place for us to hide before it is too late!”

Hatch started to say something, then his eyes widened in shock as the huge, ironclad rams of the Galaphile surged out of the fog bank.

“Cinnaminson!” he shouted, leaping into the pilot box and seizing the controls.

He dropped the nose of the Skatelow so hard and so fast that Pen and his companions slid forward into the side of the pilot box, grabbing onto railings and ropes and anything else that would catch them. The airship plummeted, then leveled out and shot forward into the haze, all in seconds. As quick as that, they were alone again, the Galaphile vanished back into the fog.

“Which way?” Gar Hatch demanded of his daughter.

Her voice steady, Cinnaminson centered herself on the console, both hands gripping the railing, and began to give her father instructions, calling out headings. Pen, Khyber, and Ahren Elessedil righted themselves and snapped their safety harnesses in place, keeping close to the pilot box to watch what was happening. Gar Hatch ignored them, speaking only to his daughter, listening to her replies and making the necessary adjustments in the setting of the Skatelow’s course.

Pen looked over his shoulder, then skyward, searching the mist for the Galaphile. She was nowhere to be seen. But she was close at hand. He sensed her, massive and deadly, an implacable hunter in search of her prey. He