"The Sylva's not here. It's gone to Kandar as a sort of dispatch-boat."
Bors groaned.
"Then I'll try to get another ship assigned to take you away," he said formidably. "Maybe one of the captured cargo-ships I sent back."
"No," said Gwenlyn. "They're going to be released. They'll go to Mekin, and we couldn't go there!"
Bors groaned again. Then he said savagely, "Wait here for me. I'll arrange something as soon as I've seen the king."
He strode down the corridor to King Humphrey's cabin. A sentry came to attention. Bors passed through a door. The king and half a dozen of the top-ranking officers of the fleet were listening apathetically to Morgan, at once vexed and positive and uncertain.
"But you can't ignore it!" protested Morgan. "I don't understand it either, but you'll agree that since my precognizer said no ship but Bors's is coming here—and he precognized every one of the prizes before they arrived—you'll concede that the Mekinese aren't coming here. So you're going out to meet them."
He saw Bors, and breathed an audible sigh of relief.
"Bors!" he said in a changed tone. "I'm glad you're back!"
Bors said grimly, "Majesty, I've very bad news."