"They are," she grunted. "They're from a kingdom on the other side of Sharadar, in the Sea of Glass, but their ships roam the twenty seas."

"I'm familiar with Zakkar, Keritanima. I was being sarcastic," Dar told her. Tarrin was as well, for his parents had told him stories of them. The kingdom of Zakkar was a place of magic, but it had a dark reputation for evil and tyranny. It was ruled by a mage-king, who some called the Witch King because of his very nasty disposition, and the study of magic was eclipsed only by the kingdom's need to expand. Zakkar wasn't considered large among the world's great nations, but its magic made it a very dangerous opponent. Their ships were universally feared on the high seas, for they would often attack non-Zakkite ships they encountered. Ungardt ships attacked Zakkite triads without hesitation, because the Zakkites would simply trail behind them, wait for an opportune moment, and strike. The Zakkites were the only kingdom capable of challenging the Wikuni for control of the twenty seas.

"I've always wondered how they make them float," Dar said.

"They capture creatures that can fly and put them in some kind of magical device," Keritanima replied. "Making the ship fly kills the creatures they capture, so they can't do it all the time. I remember hearing that the larger and stronger the creature they use, the longer the ship can fly. They say the Great Eagles and Rocs are extinct because the Zakkites killed them all in their flying devices. The biggest thing they can catch and use now are probably condors and albatrosses. Unless they've managed to find Griffons, but I doubt they'd be that crazy."

"Rocs aren't extinct," Tarrin said in a quiet voice from beside them. That made both of them look at him; it was the first time he'd spoken in days. "We see them flying around the foothills near Aldreth all the time. We think they live in the mountains of Daltochan."

"You're sure they're Rocs?" Keritanima asked curiously.

"Bird with a fifty span wingspan? Catches deer and antelope and elk?"

"That's a Roc," she admitted with a chuckle.

"I once chased one into the Frontier," he said, his eyes distant. "I found one of its feathers, and I thought it landed in the forest, so I went in to see if I could find it."

"Did you?" Dar asked.

"No, but I found where it landed," he replied. "It knocked a couple of trees over, and there were some bones of a few deer and elk."

"Must have been interesting."

"No, having to explain why I'd been missing for four days to my parents was what was interesting," he said musingly. "They were not happy."

Dar chuckled. "I've seen your mother. I wouldn't want to have to face her."

"I'm used to her, Dar," he said, looking down into the water. "What do you think they'll do, Kerri?"

"We're too far away for them to try to overtake us, and we're too close to shore for them to try anything. They never attack other ships in sight of land. If they've seen us, they'll follow along and see if we get away from shore. If we do, they'll try to catch up to us. If we don't, they'll turn away."

"So, our move is to move in closer to shore," Dar surmised.

Keritanima nodded. "We were going to do that anyway. We can't be all that far from Den Gauche."

Almost as if Keritanima's words were orders, the ship suddenly turned more towards shore, angling in so the ships behind couldn't close the distance while the galleon got closer to land. "Hey," Keritanima called to a passing sailor, a large, willowy fellow with a missing front tooth and some gray in his short beard, "how far out are we from Den Gauche?"

"We should pull into dock by morn'," the man replied in an accented voice.

"Thank you," Keritanima said absently, and the man continued on about his business. "We're closer than I thought. It also means we turned south again. We must have done that during the night. Kern must have overshot his hook."

"How can you tell?" Dar asked.

"Simple, Dar," she said with a laugh. "The land is on the left. If land were on the right, we'd be travelling north."

"Oh. That makes sense, I suppose."

"I'll make a sailor out of you yet, Dar," Keritanima chuckled as Tarrin wandered away from them.

Tomorrow. It made him feel relieved that he'd be getting off the ship, but old fears were rising in him again. He was a Were-cat. He had no business in the human world. Most humans thought him some kind of very exotic Wikuni, at least those who lived near the ocean, but when they found out what he was, and learned what it meant, they distanced themselves from him. In the Tower, he had literally lived alone among many, as the Novices and Initiates were terrified of him. Only a rare few, like Dar, put aside his frightening appearance and reputation and simply talked to him. But then again, acceptance seemed to be an integral part of Dar's nature, and nobody could help but like him. He was afraid of going out into a city, afraid of the people, afraid of rejection. But he was also afraid of losing control of himself and hurting people. And beneath it all was his instinctive need to be free, and that would force him off the ship when it landed. If only for a little while, he needed to roam in a nice open area and feel like he wasn't trapped.

A hand on his shoulder startled him; the wind was in his face, and it kept his from scenting or hearing the approach. But the sense of presence from the person behind told him immediately it was Allia, and Tarrin felt the instantaneous reaction fade just as quickly. "You shouldn't sneak up on me, sister," he said in the Selani language, putting his hand over his heart and feeling it race.

"I'm not used to being able to do it," she replied with a light chuckle, leading him to the rail facing land. "What troubles you today, deshida? You've been very quiet lately."

"The same thing, Allia," he said despondantly. He kept no secrets from Allia, and she knew the truth behind his quandary. She couldn't understand it-nobody who wasn't Were could understand it-but it made him feel a bit better to talk about things to someone. "I need off this ship, but I'm afraid I may do something out in the city. As touchy as I've been, I'm afraid getting jostled in the streets may be enough to make me lash out."

"Brother, getting off the ship will make you feel much better," she said, putting her four-fingered hand on his wrist. It came down on the heavy steel manacle that was still locked around his wrist, and that made her eyes flare. She still got on him about taking them off, but he couldn't. The manacles represented what he had done, and all he had to do was look down at them, feel their weight on his wrists, to remember what he had done, what he had become, and try his hardest not to have it happen to him again. "I think you are suffering from a very bad case of, what did Dolanna call it? Oh, yes, 'cabin fever.' You need some time on land, without being hemmed in by the length of the deck. I know I could use some time on land," she grunted. Allia was born in the desert, and had a fear of large bodies of water. She had mastered it enough to be able to move around, but it did nothing against bouts of seasickness. The first two rides on the journey, Allia could barely get out of bed. She had adapted marvelously to the rolling sense of the ship, what Kern called sea legs, and no longer got seasick except when the ship was caught in high seas or a storm. But the time on the sea had begun to show on her face.

"We'll be there for two days," he told her. "I hope that's enough for you."

"A moment would make me happy," she sighed, "but will it be enough for you?"

"I don't know. I hope so," he replied quietly.

"There is no need to be afraid, my brother," she said. "Fear of yourself will only make things worse."

"I don't know how else to feel, Allia," he said quietly. "I've tried to explain it to you, but, I just can't find the words."