“Stay off! Do not risk it.”
Curtain between them now. She could not penetrate that despite frantic efforts. Kolder curtain. Did they know, or was that only usual precautions? Simon!
Jaelithe felt as if she had screamed that name, it was a tearing pain in her throat. But when she opened her eyes Stymir showed no alarm.
“What we seek lies beyond there,” she said dully, pointing to the horizon where rode the weed. “Perhaps they also know that we come—”
“Captain! The weed!” Not a warning from Jokul, but a cry from the mainmast lookout.
One trail—one patch. No! A dozen trails now, all reaching out deadly tendrils for them. Stymir roared orders to bring the ship about, send it backtracking. Jaelithe sped for the cage on mid-deck.
The great white falcon welcomed her with a scream as she clicked open the latch of the cage. She stiffened her arm to support its weight as it hooked its heavy claws about her flesh and bone, sidled out to freedom. Fastened to one of those strong legs was what she sought, a tiny mechanism in a rod which the bird could carry with ease. Jaelithe drew a deep breath, to steady her nerves and quiet the racing of her heart. This was a delicate business and she dared make no mistakes. Her finger nail found the tiny indentation in the rod, and she pressed that in code pattern. The bird in flight would automatically register, on this triumph of the Falconers’ devices, the course