‘You look terrible. But I’ll take your word for it.’ He regarded the Qalochian. ‘You certainly know how to ride a fit, I’ll give you that.’

Caldason ignored the observation. ‘It went well?’

‘Look around.’

As though for the first time, he saw the litter of corpses, many marking his trail. He betrayed no particular emotion. ‘Vance?’

‘Not here, it seems.’

Caldason spied the burning ship and its sister getting away. ‘On that?’

‘I doubt it. The bastard’s too cautious to expose himself. He’ll be near, though.’

‘Pity.’ It sounded a strange word to be coming from his lips.

‘Let’s be grateful for what we’ve got. Meeting them at sea was a good plan, Reeth, rather than facing them once they’d landed.’

The Qalochian let the compliment pass. His attention seemed to be wandering again.

‘We’ve captured this ship, and destroyed another,’ Darrok went on gruffly, ‘and we’ve killed plenty of the raiders. That’s a good result.’ He surveyed the scene and grew sombre. ‘But we can’t go on spending our people’s lives this freely. We have to find a way to-’

‘Hear that?’

‘What?’

‘Listen.’

Darrok bellowed for silence. The jubilant islanders quietened down.

It took a moment for them to realise that what they were hearing was someone singing.

The sound came from a distance, and drifted with the wind. But they heard enough to recognise its melancholy beauty. Though the words couldn’t be made out, the song had the unmistakable air of a lament.

‘What the hell…?’ Darrok peered around, trying to place the source.

An exquisite purity of tone added to the melody’s eerie, bitter-sweet quality. Islanders and captives alike stood enraptured, wondering at the strange, haunting refrain.

‘What is it?’ Darrok said.

Caldason slowly shook his head.

Darrok pointed to a lingering fog bank, well offshore. ‘It has to be there.’