[Envinyatar]

The Windrunner broke into the waters of the bay on the fourth day of sailing, mid-day. Two more days and they reached the open sea. All traces of their 'merchant' disguise were discarded and they set sail north toward Dol Amroth.

They had gone but half a day in their new direction, when the lookout from the crow's nest called down to them, pointing north. 'Sails, ho!'

Hafez extended his spyglass to its fullest length and frowned, then handed it to Khaz.

'What's this?' Khazdifir spoke in astonishment as into the field of the lens came sailing what appeared to be the remaining Corsair ships from Dol Amroth. 'Hail them!' he instructed the lookout.

The man in the crow's nest flashed a highly polished silver mirror in a short series of prearranged bursts. For what seemed an eternity, though was only a few seconds, there wa no answer. Then the flashed answer was received.

Hafez grinned at his captain. 'They are ours!' 'Yes,' said Khaz, telescoping the spyglass back in upon itself, 'but why are they sailing south?'

The Windrunner headed further out to sea, drawing all the ships farther away from the coast. Three hours brought them together, and it was then that Khazdifir learned of Yr Saldan's fate. The captains from Dol Amroth told him also that they loaded all the treasure they might onto the ships and had torched the quay and burned the ships of Dol Amroth. 'They will not follow us. We have made sure of that,' they assured him.

'It was not them I feared,' said Khazdifir. 'It is the Prince and his armed ships from Minas Tirith that I do not wish to engage.' He looked round at the number of ships now in their small armada. The others seemed to look to him to make a decision.

'We will all head south together. Keeping out in open waters. Should the Prince follow us, we will outrun him, and come safe to Umbar. He will not dare enter those waters. He has no authority there.' He looked at the other captains, letting them know that they too had brought in their share of valuables from Minas Tirith. 'We will all be rich men, crew and captain, when we reach Umbar.'

Like sleek birds skimming over the waters on white wings, the Corsair ships cut through the waves, speeding south . . .