Daja leaned over the side, not realizing a Guard clutched her waistband to keep her aboard. One last little breath and blow, slow and strong, sending a hard stream of air at the box. It fought her, the puny thing, just like it fought the current, trying to keep to its course.

An oily hand gripped her shoulder; Frostpine had moved up right behind her. She forgot herself, forgot the danger, as her nose filled with the sharp scents of rosemary, rose geranium and cypress. She filled her lungs with magic.

Leaning forwards again, she clamped her chest muscles down hard and fast, forcing the magic out.

The box snapped from its course like a pit from a cherry, flying across over a thousand feet of sea to slam into its mate. Both spun crazily in the water. As the Guard and Frostpine pulled her back, the boxes thumped against the curved stone base of the Harbourmaster's Tower.

They vanished in a fireball. An invisible hand pressed them down, pressing the water with them. Something leaned on her eyes and ears. A thundering roar flashed through every bone she had. Caught between the logs of the chain, they might have been driven into them or crushed. Daja blew hard, staying a bellows long enough to keep them from being smashed. A shower of rock splinters and water fell through the spell-net canopy, cutting and drenching them. A splinter opened the skin on her right cheek.

When the smoke began to clear, she saw that some force had taken a giant bite from the curved base of the Harbourmaster's Tower.

In her mind, Tris, Sandry and Briar were suddenly awake and clamouring. What? Daja, where?

Not now! she snapped. Outside the harbour the illusion-storm shivered. Light rippled all across its dark edges.

"I need to work through you," Frostpine told Daja hurriedly. "May I? I don't believe we should stay much longer."

The storm-clouds were fading. Daja nodded to her teacher. "Do what you must."

Oily hands gripped hers. White fire raced through her bones, knocking her head back on her neck. Magic blazed around student and teacher in a widening arc, until it struck both chains. Down the chains the magic raced like lightning, making them blaze. Daja would have screamed by then; she knew Frostpine would have screamed, but their throats had locked tight.

Someone poured a canteen full of water on them.

Gasping, teacher and student let go of each other.

"You can stop," the sergeant rasped, putting her head close to theirs. "The whole thing's shining like noon at midnight. Get us out of here," she ordered the coxswain.

Daja tried to gasp quietly. An ugly headache was starting to hammer the back of her skull. Looking at Frostpine, she could see he was not much better off than she was.

But the sergeant was right. Both strands of the harbour chain shone as if made of lightning. From the concealed naval ships beside the harbour entrance, she heard cheering.

Staring through the blaze across the entrance, as she might stare into a forge-fire to see if her metal was hot enough, Daja gulped. The storm-illusion was gone. A hundred yards from the outer chain lay rank after rank of ships, large and small, flying a blood-red banner.

On the decks of two ships in the front line, Daja saw crews working to arm catapults. "But they can't see us," she whispered.

"They're aiming at something," a soldier pointed out.

"Row for your lives, damn you!" she heard the coxswain snarl. No one was bothering to be quiet now.

The catapults loosed. From their cradles flew two round black balls, one at the Harbourmaster's Tower, one at the Tombstone. Each struck with a flash and a roar, followed by smoke, pressure and rock splinters. She couldn't see what happened to the one that hit the Tombstone. The other ball had missed the tower. Instead it struck the invisible ship on its far side. The ship was visible now, with a vast hole in its deck, dead sailors everywhere, and flames shooting out of the hold.

Chapter Seven

Sandry turned over in bed, and peeked at the window. The sky was pearl grey - dawn was not far off. With a sigh, she burrowed deep into her pillow. The bells of the clock tower would clamour soon, but there was no harm in trying to get a little more sleep...

The air around her roared. Yellow flashes and rolling grey smoke filled her eyes; a strange odour, bitter and clingy, invaded her nose. There was pressure on her face, as if someone leaned on a pillow fitted over her eyes and cheeks. Tiny, hard things sprayed her. A line of pain scored her right cheekbone.

Gasping, she sat up. There was a loud thud in the attic, as if Tris had fallen out of bed. Across the main room, through Briar's open door, she heard a flurry of curses.

What? Daja, where? all three clamoured, speaking together in their minds.

Not now! came a sharp reply. Daja, it seemed, had other things to do just then. As if she cut it with scissors, the line connecting them to her snapped.

Sandry's nose prickled. She sneezed once, twice, and groped for her pocket handkerchief. Her eyes cleared; there was no smoke or fire in the room.

Scrambling out of bed, she ran to Briar's room. "Did you feel that?" she demanded.

He crawled out of what she called his nest, a mattress on the floor covered with a tangle of sheets. When he looked up at her, Sandry touched her scratched cheek - Briar sported a red weal at the identical spot on his own face. He frowned. "You, too?"

"What is going on here?" demanded Rosethorn, marching in. "Can't you three even get out of bed quietly?"

"Didn't you hear it?" Briar cried. "That - that boom, with the smell and the smoke!" He rubbed his ears. "It pressed my head!"