Вилорп

→"I can't remember any spells."

→Lisutaris shakes her head.

→"You'll recover. Lisutaris, can you bring the boat in?"

→"I've got the malady," she says, and sounds quite unhappy.

→Makri looks at me.

→"I can see it," says Makri. "I have Elvish eyes."

→I can't see any boat. Nor can Lisutaris.

→"There's an empty boat out there," she says.

→Makri comes awake and slides off my shoulder.

→The lingering effects of the malady, followed by Deeziz's spell, have taken all of the Sorcerer's strength.

→"No good," gasps Lisutaris. "I'm too weak."

→We're too far from the harbour to reach any of the ships. I don't see anything to do except start walking.

→When we arrive at the outlet on the shore the beach is lit up with explosions. Some Sorcerers at the harbour are putting up resistance and the last ships are leaving the dock, crammed with refugees. People who couldn't make it on to a ship are streaming along the rocks towards the beach, fleeing through the winter night in all directions. Fire and smoke hang over the city although there doesn't seem to be a general conflagration. I'd guess that the Orcs won't burn Turai; they want it as a base to gather strength during the winter.

→Now that Lisutaris is conscious again, the going is a little easier. I sling Makri over my shoulder. Even though she seems to be unconscious she keeps hold of her bag containing her two swords and her axe. At least she's not leaving the city empty-handed.

→"Then we'd better keep moving. We're not far from the outlet on the shore. If we're lucky we'll be far enough away from the Orcs. I don't expect they'll scour the coastline tonight."

→"Oh yes. Spells. No, I can't seem to remember any."

→The Sorcerer looks puzzled.

→"The things you do sorcery with."

→"Spells?"

→Lisutaris looks blank.