An instant later, it turned to dismay as an immense splash showered her. "That was close!" Jek exclaimed. The next ballast stone hit Vivacia's hull. The hard wood rang with the impact and the ship shuddered. Althea turned wildly, seeking a gap in the circle of ships that surrounded them. There wasn't one. The Marietta and the Motley were trapped as well, though they were trying to break free. Another catapult lofted an immense stone toward them as Paragon drifted around the bow of the Jamaillian ship and into full view.

"ETTA, ETTA." HIS PANTING WHISPER BARELY REACHED HER EARS.

"Yes, dearest, I'm here, hush, hush." Another splash rocked the ship. "We'll take you to Vivacia. You'll be all right." She tightened her hold on Kennit as they hurried him forward. She wanted to be gentle, but she needed to get him to the foredeck. Vivacia could lend him strength; she knew it, despite the wooden despair on Wintrow's face. Kennit would be all right, he had to be all right. The danger of losing him drove all doubts from her mind and heart. What could it matter to her what he had done to anyone else? He had loved her, loved her as no one else ever had.

"I won't be all right, my dear." His head hung forward on his chest, his gleaming black curls curtaining his face. He coughed slightly. Blood sprayed. She did not know how he found strength to speak. His gasped whisper was desperate, urgent. "My love. Take the wizardwood charm from my wrist. Wear it always, until the day you pass it on to our son. To Paragon. You will name him Paragon? You will wear the charm?"

"Of course, of course, but you aren't going to die. Hush. Save your strength. Here's the ladder, this is the last hard bit, my love. Keep breathing. Vivacia! Vivacia, he's here, help him, help him!"

The crewmen and Wintrow seemed so rough as they hauled him up onto the foredeck. Etta leapt up the ladder and hurried before them. She tore off her cloak and spread it out on the deck. "Here," she cried to them, "put him here."

"No!" Vivacia thundered. The figurehead had twisted around as far as she could, further than a real human could have turned. She held out her arms for Kennit.

"You can help him," Etta sought her reassurance. "He won't die."

Vivacia didn't answer her question. Her green eyes were deep as the ocean as they met Etta's gaze. The inevitability of the ocean was in her look. "Give him to me," she said again quietly.

An unuttered scream echoed through Etta's heart. Air would not come into her lungs. Her whole body tingled strangely, and then went numb. "Give him to her," she conceded. She could not feel her mouth move, but she heard the words. Wintrow and Jola raised Kennit's body, offering him to Vivacia. Etta kept Kennit's hand tightly in hers as the ship took him in her cradling arms. "Oh, my love," she mourned as Vivacia received him. Then the figurehead turned away and she had to release his dangling hand.

Vivacia lifted Kennit's limp body to her breast and held him close. Her great head bent over him. Could a liveship weep? Then she lifted her head, flinging back her raven hair. Another rock struck her bow. The whole ship rang with the impact.

"Paragon!" she cried aloud. "Hurry, hurry. Kennit is yours. Come and take him!"

"No!" Etta wailed, uncomprehending. "You would give him to his enemy? No, no, give him back to me!"

"Hush. This must be," Vivacia said kindly but firmly. "Paragon is not his enemy. I give him back to his family, Etta." Gently, she added, "You should go with him."

Paragon loomed closer and closer still. His hands groped blindly toward Vivacia. "Here, I am here," she called, guiding him to her. It was an insane maneuver to bring two ships into such proximity, bow to bow, let alone in the midst of a hail of stones. One such missile crashed down, the splash wetting them both. They ignored it. Paragon's hands suddenly clasped Vivacia and fumbled their way to Kennit in her arms. For a long instant, the two liveships rocked in a strange embrace, the pirate between them. Then, silently, Vivacia placed Kennit's lax body in Paragon's waiting arms.

Etta, standing at the railing, watched the change that came over the ship's young face. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, perhaps to keep it from trembling. Then he raised Kennit's body.

Paragon's pale blue eyes opened at last. He looked a long time into the pirate's face, gazing with the hunger of years. Then, slowly, he clasped him close. Kennit looked almost doll-like in the figurehead's embrace. His lips moved, but Etta heard nothing. The blood from Kennit's injuries vanished swiftly as it touched Paragon's wood, soaking in immediately, and leaving no stain of passage. Then he bowed over Kennit and kissed the top of his head with an impossible tenderness. At last, Paragon looked up. He gazed at her with Kennit's eyes and smiled, an unbearably sad smile that yet held peace and wholeness.

An elderly woman on Paragon's deck strained toward Kennit's body. Tears ran down her face and she cried aloud but wordlessly, a terrible gabbling wail. Behind her, a tall dark-haired man stood with his arms crossed tightly on his chest. His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed, but he did not try to interfere. He even stepped forward and helped support Kennit's body as Paragon released it into the woman's reaching arms. Gently they stretched him on the liveship's deck.

"Now you," Vivacia said suddenly. She reached for Etta, and she stepped into the liveship's grasp.

SOMEWHERE IN THE DARKNESS, SOMEONE WAS BEATING A DRUM. IT WAS AN unsteady rhythm, loud-soft, loud-soft, and slowing, slowing inexorably to peace. There were other sounds, shouts and angry cries, but they no longer mattered. Closer to his ears, familiar voices spoke. Wintrow muttering to him and to someone else, "Damn, sorry, sorry, Kennit. Be careful, can't you, support his leg as I lift-"

On the other side of him, Etta was talking. "…Hush. Save your strength. Here's the ladder, this is the last hard bit, my love. Keep breathing…" He could ignore them if he chose. If he ignored them, what could he focus on? What was important now?

He felt Vivacia take him. Oh, yes, this would be best, this would be easiest. He relaxed and tried to let go. He felt the life seeping out of his body, and he hovered, waiting to be gone. But she held him still, cupped in her hands like water, refusing to take him. "Wait," she whispered to him. "Hold on, just for a moment or two longer. You need to go home, Kennit. You are not mine. You were never mine, and we always knew that. You need to be one once more. Wait. Just a bit longer. Wait." Then she called aloud, "Paragon. Hurry, hurry. Kennit is yours. Come and take him!"

Paragon? Fear stabbed him. Paragon was lost to him, no more than a boyish ghost now. He had killed him. His own ship could never take him back. He could never go home. Paragon would fling him away, would leave him to sink beneath the sea just as he had-

He knew the touch of the big hands that accepted him. He would have wept, but there were no tears left. He tried to make his mouth move, to speak aloud how sorry he was. "There, there," someone said comfortingly. Paragon? His father? Someone who loved him said, "Don't fear. I have you now. I won't let you go. You will not be hurt anymore." Then he felt the kiss that absolved him without judgment. "Come back to me," he said. "Come home." The darkness was no longer black. It grew silvery and then as Paragon embraced him and took him home he faded into white.