"He doesn't want it," she replied in a low voice.

"Nor do I want your archers." Paragon's voice was hoarse. "Listen to me, Brashen Trell. Tell your men to set their bows and other weapons down. Keep them to hand, but do not brandish them about. I want no killing of these creatures. I suspect they are no danger to me. If you have any respect for me at all…" Paragon let the thought die away. He lifted his arms wide and suddenly shouted, "I know you. I KNOW YOU!" The deep timbre of his bellow vibrated through the whole ship. Slowly he lowered his arms to his sides. "And you know me."

Brashen stared at him in confusion, but motioned for his bowmen to obey. What did the ship mean? But as Paragon threw back his head and filled his chest with air, Brashen suddenly knew that the ship spoke to the oncoming serpents, not the crew.

Paragon dropped his jaw open wide. The sound that came from him vibrated the planks under Brashen's feet, and then rose until it became a high ululation. Another deep breath, and then he cried out again, in a voice more like sea-pipes than a man speaking.

In the silence that followed, Brashen heard Amber's breathless whisper. "They hear you. They are slowing and looking at one another. Now, they come on, but slower than before, and every one of them looks to you. They are halting and fanning out in a great circle around you. Now one comes forward. He is green but gold flashes from his scales when he turns in the sun-"

"She," Paragon corrected her quietly. "She Who Remembers. I taste her in the wind, my planks feel her presence in the water. Does she look at me?"

"She does. They all do."

"Good." The figurehead drew breath again, and once more the cavernous language of the sea serpents issued from his jaws.

SHREEVER FOLLOWED MAULKIN WITH HEAVY HEARTS. HER LOYALTY TO HIM WAS unquestioned; she would have followed him under ice. Shreever had accepted his decision when he surrendered his dominance to She Who Remembers. She had instinctively trusted the twisted serpent with a faith that went beyond her unique scent. The serpent herself inspired her confidence. Shreever felt certain that those two serpents together could save their race.

But of late it seemed to her that these two leaders had given authority over to the silver ship who called herself Bolt. Shreever could find no trust for her. Although the silver one smelled like One Who Remembered, she had neither the shape nor the ways of a serpent. Her commands to the tangle often made no sense, and her promises to lead them safely to a cocooning place always began with "soon."

«Soon» and «tomorrow» were concepts that the serpents could ill afford. The cold of winter was chilling the waters, and the runs of migratory fish were disappearing. Already the serpents were losing flesh. If they did not cocoon soon, they would not have the body reserves to last the winter, let alone enough to metamorphose.

But She Who Remembers heeded the silver one, and Maulkin heeded her. So Shreever followed, as did Sessurea and all the rest of the tangle. Even though this last command from the ship made no sense at all. Destroy the other silver ship. Why, she wanted to know. The ship had not threatened them, nor challenged them in any way. He smelled of serpent, in a confusing, muted way, not as strong as Bolt did, but the scent was there, nonetheless. So why destroy him? Especially, why destroy him but leave his carcass undevoured? Why not bear him down to the bottom and crush him to pieces and share out his flesh amongst themselves? From the scent of him, it would be rich with memories. The other silver they had pulled down had willingly surrendered both flesh and memories to them. Why should this one be any different?

But Bolt had given them their strategy. They were to spray the ship with venom to weaken its structure. Then the larger, longer males were to fling themselves against the ship to turn it on its side. Once its wings were in the water, the smaller serpents could add their weight and strength to seize it by its limbs and pull it under. There they must batter it to pieces, and leave the pieces to sink to the bottom. Only the two-legs of it could they eat. Waste. A foolish, deliberate waste of energy, life and food. Was there something about the ship that Bolt feared? A memory hidden in the silver ship that she did not wish them to share?

Then the silver ship spoke. His voice was deep and powerful, shimmering through the water. It brushed along Shreever's scales commandingly. She found herself slowing, her mane slackening in wonder. "Why do you attack me?" he demanded. In a harsher voice, he added, "Does he bid you do this? Does he fear to face me then, but sends others to do this task in his stead? He was not once so guileful about treachery. I thought I knew you. I thought to name you the heirs to the Three Realms. But they were a folk who served their own ends. They did not scurry and slither to a human's bidding." His voice dripped disdain like venom.

Abruptly the serpents were milling in confusion. They had not been prepared to hear their victim speak to them, let alone question and accuse them. She Who Remembers spoke for them all as she demanded, "Who are you? What are you?"

"Who am I? What am I? Those are questions with so many answers they are meaningless. I have pondered those questions for decades, and never discovered an answer. Even if I knew, why do I owe you an answer, when you have not replied to my question? Why do you attack me? Do you serve Kennit?"

No one responded to his question, but no serpent attacked either. Shreever spared a glance for the silent two-legs that clustered along the ship's flanks and clung to his upper limbs. They were still and unmoving, silently watching what transpired. They knew they had no say in this: it was business for the Lords of the Three Realms. What did his accusations mean? A slow suspicion grew in Shreever's mind. Had the command to kill this ship truly come from Bolt, or did she speak for the humans aboard her? Shreever watched avidly as both She Who Remembers and Maulkin waited for the other to reply.

But it was the nameless white serpent who spoke. He had remained an outsider to the tangle, always on the edges, listening and mocking. "They will kill you, not at the command of a man, but because the other ship has promised to guide them home if they do so. Being noble and high-minded creatures, they immediately agreed to murder as a small price for saving themselves. Even the murder of one of their own."

The creature that was part of the ship spread wide his limbs. "One of your own? Do you truly claim me, then? How strange. For though with one touch I knew you, I still do not know myself. Even I do not claim myself. How is it that you do?"

"He is mad," a scarred scarlet serpent trumpeted. His copper eyes spun with impatience. "Let us do what we must do. Kill him. Then she will lead us north. Long enough have we delayed."

"Oh, yes!" the white serpent chortled throatily. "Kill him, kill him quickly, before he forces us to face what we have become. Kill him before he makes us question what the other ship is, and why we should give credence to her." He twined himself through an insulting knot, as if he courted his own tail. "Perhaps this is a thing she has learned from her time infested with humans. As we all recall, they kill one another with relish. Have not we been assisting them in that task, all at Bolt's behest? If, indeed, those commands come from Bolt at all. Perhaps she has become the willing servant of a human. Perhaps this is what she teaches us to be as well. Let us show her what apt pupils we are. Kill him."

She Who Remembers spoke slowly. "There will be no killing. This is not right, and we all know it. To kill this creature, not for food nor to protect ourselves, but to kill him simply because we are commanded to do it is not worthy of us. We are the heirs of the Three Realms. When we kill, we kill for ourselves. Not like this."